


^l" °' 









» a S 






'^Ao^ 




.<&> 



<^. 



xO-r^ 



A o^ 



The Byways of Paris 



The 

Byways of Paris 

By 
Georges Cain 

Curator of the Carnavalet Museum, and of the Historic 
Collections of the City of Paris 

With One Hundred and Thirty-three Illustrations and 
Six ancient and modern Maps and Plans 

Translated by 

Louise Seymour Houghton 




New York 
Duffield and Company 

1912 



TABLE OF CONTENTS 

Page 

Table of Illustrations ix 

Table of Plans xiv 

The "Mansarde" of Bonaparte 1 

The Old Quarter of the White Mantles .... 15 

Rue Beauregard. The Street of the Moon. The 

Good Tidings Church 27 

Seine Landscapes 43 

The City Hall and the Place de Greve, July 31, 

1830 57 

The "Museum of the Arts." In the Sorbonne . 77 
The Street of the Ladies' Tower. The New 

Athens. — The House of Talma 93 

Paris seen from a Balloon 109 

The Vaudeville Theatre 125 

Paris at Night. Around Saint-Merri. The Hotel 
of the Upper Loire. At Emile's. The Cellars 

of the Markets 141 

The Gardens of the Carrousel 155 

"Frascati" 175 

The Faubourg Poissonniere 191 

The Rue Raynouard. One of M. de Balzac's 

Dwellings 207 

vii 



Vlll TABLE OF CONTENTS 

Page 

The Passage of the Panoramas ........ 2i21 

La Rue de la Harpe . 235 

The True *' Butte " Montmartre 249 

The Fourth of September, 1870. The Place of 

the Chateau d'Eau. — The Grand Boulevards. 

— The Hotel de Ville. — The Quays .... 267 

The Dancing Classes of the Opera 281 

A Week of Inundation 297 



TABLE OF ILLUSTRATIONS 

Page 

No. 5 Quai Conti about 1860 3 

Mme. d'Abrantes 5 

Bonaparte 7 

Mme. de Permon's Drawing-room, now Salon of 

M. Pigoreau, Place Conti No. 2 9 

Passage Saint-Roch 10 

Allegorical Engraving Published about 1800 . . 11 
The Corner of the rue des Moineaux and the rue 

des Moulins 12 

Rue Vieille-du-Temple about 1860 17 

The Barbette Turret, rue \ eille-du-Temple, 

about 1865 19 

Church of the White Mantles in 1790 21 

Rue Pavee au Marais 23 

The Procession of the League 31 

The Poisoner La Voisin 35 

Grating formerly Opening upon the Gardens of 

La Voisin 37 

Entry of Louis XVIII into Paris, INIay 3, 1814 39 

Boulevard Bonne-Nouvelle 40 

Pont-Neuf seen from the Yacht 44 

A Nook in the Seine 45 

The Bridge from the Yacht 46 

The Slope of the Goldsmiths' Quay ...... 48 

Pont-Neuf 51 

The Smaller Arm of the Seine, January 3, 1880 . 53 
View of the Hotel de Ville (City Hall) of Paris 

(Eighteenth Century) 59 

ix 



X TABLE OF ILLUSTRATIONS 

Page 
Reception of Louis Philippe at the Hotel de Ville. 

Relief Plan 61 

Quai de la Greve and Part of the Hotel de 

Ville about 1830 62 

Lithograph by Raffet (Album of 1831) 65 

Arcade Saint-Jean, rue Monceau-Saint-Gervais . 67 

The Hotel de Ville during the Revolution of 1830 . 68 

Popular Picture of 1789 70 

Attack upon the Common House of Paris ... 73 

The Court of the Sorbonne about 1845 79 

Mile. Constance Mayer 89 

Frangois J. Talma 95 

Talma as Sylla (Act IV, Scene VIII), 1823 ... 98 

Talma as Pyrrhus . 99 

Talma as Cinna • • . 101 

Talma's Study, 4, rue Saint-Georges 103 

Painted Frieze in Talma's Study, rue de la Tour- 

des-Dames 105 

Painted Door of Talma's Study, rue de la Tour- 

des-Dames 106 

The Louvre and the Halles seen from 700 Metres 

of Altitude Ill 

The Day's Folly (1783) 112 

The Balloon of 1783 115 

First Aerial Journey 117 

Aerostatic Globe of MM. Charles and Robert . . 119 

Mme. de Montgolfier 121 

The Vaudeville Theatre, Place de la Bourse . . . 127 
Theatre of the Comic Opera, later The Vaude- 
ville Theatre 130 

Henri Monnier in "The Improvised Family" . . 131 

Henri Monnier (after Gavarni) 132 

Arnal in "A Burning Fever" 133 

Playbill of "La Dame aux CameHas " 134 



TABLE OF ILLUSTRATIONS xi 

Page 

Playbill of " The Parisians " VSo 

Mile. Blanche Pierson 137 

Mile. Bartet in "The Arlesienne" 139 

Mme. Rejane in "Mine. Sans-Gene" 140 

The Church of Saint-Merri 143 

Saint-Merri Quarter, former Hotel de la Reynie, 

24 rue Quincampoix 144 

The Church of Saint-Merri 145 

The Linen Drapers' Bureau of the rue Courtalon 147 

In the Cellar of the Halles 150 

Market and Fountain of the Innocents .... 151 

E. Rostand 153 

Ruins of the Chapel of the Deanery and the Hotel 

de Longueville 157 

The Hotel de Longueville, Place du Carrousel . 159 

Place du Carrousel under Louis Philippe .... 161 
Review of the Decadi before the First Consul in 

the Court of the Carrousel 165 

Hotel de Nantes, Place du Carrousel, 1849 . . . 167 

Place du Carrousel 171 

Frascati 177 

The Little Marionettes 178 

Parisian Costume of the Year VIII, Seen at 

Frascati 179 

Frascati 181 

The Trimmings 183 

A Picture of "Good Style" 185 

Costume of an Elegant Woman 187 

The Grange-Bateliere about 1810 192 

Entrance of the Temporary Galleries built for 

the Exposition at the Menus-Plaisirs Theatre 193 
Under the Entrance to the Menus-Plaisirs . . . 194 
Longitudinal Section of the Theatre of the Con- 
servatory 195 



Xii TABLE OF ILLUSTRATIONS 

Page 

Interior of the Hall of the Conservatoire .... 196 

Entrance to the Conservatoire 199 

Theresa in 1867 201 

Consulting Room, dating from the Directory . . 202 

A Salon, Time of the Directory 203 

An Old Mansion, Faubourg Poissonniere .... 204 

ViewofPassy 209 

Balzac 213 

Balzac's Garden 214 

Balzac's House 215 

Another View of the Boulevards 223 

Chinese Pavilion belonging to the House of the 

Duke of Montmorency, boulevard Mont- 

martre 225 

The Pa^ssage of the Panoramas about 1808 . . . 229 

" Letter-head " of the House of Susse about 1835 231 

Tomb of the Cardinal de Richelieu 237 

Death Mask (after Nature) of Cardinal Richelieu 241 
Funeral Crypt of Cardinal Richelieu at the Sor- 

bonne 243 

The Mortuary Mask of the Cardinal-Minister 246 

Richelieu on his Deathbed 247 

A. Bruant, by Steinlen 250 

Aristide Bruant 251 

Montmartre in 1850 255 

Construction of the Church of the Sacred Heart 257 

The Post Office of the rue des Rosiers (June, 1871) 259 

A Farm in Montmartre 261 

The Rue Saint- Vincent, in Montmartre (1908) . 263 

The Windmills of Montmartre about 1845 ... 264 
Street of the Willows. — Wine Shop of the 

Assassins 265 

The Fourth of September, 1870 269 

Gambetta 271 



TABLE OF ILLUSTRATIONS xiii 

Page 

The Government of the National Defence . . . 273 

The Deputies of the Left Bank (4th September) 275 

Henri Roehefort (4 September, 1870) 277 

The Entrance to the Classrooms 282 

The Presence Sheet 283 

The "Little Girls" 284 

The Second Quadrille 285 

At the Bar 287 

Mile. Mauri's Ensemble Class in the Grand Foyer 

of the Opera 289 

Mile. Rosita Mauri 290 

At the Second Quadrille 291 

A Lesson with Mile. Mauri in the Great Foyer 

of Dancing. INilles. Barbier, Zambelli, D. 

Lobstein 293 

Mile. Mauri's Class 295 

The Seine and the Pont-Royal, January 25, 1910 298 
The Wharf of the "Touriste" opposite the Orsay 

Station, January 26, 1910 299 

Quay Saint-Michel, January 26, 1910 303 

Quay Voltaire and the Pumping Engine of the 

"Official Journal" 304 

Quay Saint-Michel, January 26, 1910 305 

The Footbridge of the rue de Baune, January 27, 

1910 307 

The Seine and the Pont des Saints-Peres, Janu- 
ary 28, 1910 309 

Rue Visconti, January 28, 1910 311 

The Palace of the Legion of Honor, January 28, 

1910 313 

The Court of the School of Fine Arts, January 28, 

1910 314 



TABLE OF PLANS 

Page 
Part of a Plan of the City of Paris, by Bullet 

and Blondell, 1670 to 1676 29 

Part of a Plan of the Place de Greve and the 

Hotel de Ville in 1830 69 

Extract from the Road Plan of the City of Paris 

in 1839 97 

Place du Carrousel 173 

Extract from the Plan of the sixteenth arrondisse- 

ment of the City of Paris, 1860 211 

Map of the Butte Montmartre 253 



XIV 



THE BYWAYS OF PARIS 



Byways of Paris 



THE "MANSARDE" OF BONAPARTE 



A T the end of the Pont-Neuf, at the corner of the 
narrow rue de Nevers,^ No. 5 quai Conti, during 
more than half a century Parisians proudly pointed 
out to respectfully impressed strangers an ancient 
four-story tenement crowned by a succession of gar- 
rets contrived in the high-pitched roof. The build- 
ing was to the last degree ugly, but a black marble 
tablet affixed to the wall in accordance with an im- 
perial mandate of October, 1850, bore in letters of 
gold the interesting inscription : 

" The Emperor Napoleon Bonaparte, artillery 
officer, after leaving the School of Brienne, lived on 
the fifth floor of this house." 

The legend was charming, the place peculiarly 
picturesque and suggestive : at the outlet of the old 
Pont-Neuf, on one of those quays of the Seine 

^ The rue de Nevers was, in the thirteenth century, a mere lane 
serving as a channel for the sewerage of the house of the Sachet 
Friars and the garden of the College Saint-Denys. 

It was closed by a gate at each end and was foi this reason known 
in 1636 as the rue des Deux-Portes. It received the name Nevers 
because it ran along the walls of the Hotel de Nevers. — Jaillot, 
Recherches siir Paris, t. V, p. 60. 



2 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

which are the finest in the world, but a stone's throw 
from the Institute, the Mint, and the Poultry Market, 
the squat pillars of which then uprose — not very 
high — at the corner of the rue des Grands-Augus- 
tins, not more than fifty yards from the statue of 
good King Henry, on the platform of the Pont-Neuf, 
near the historic buildings of the Place Dauphine, 
dominated by the pointed towers of the Conciergerie 
and the spire of the Sainte-Chapelle — what a set- 
ting for a great memory ! Add to all this that one 
may embrace with a single glance the garret of the 
poor Corsican lieutenant, " the Eagle's Nest," and 
the gorgeous palace of the Louvre, whence Napoleon 
the Great, all-powerful Csesar, dictated his laws to 
the world. A living antithesis ! 

" Admirable matter for Latin verse ! " 

It was therefore a shock when an unlucky study 
of texts robbed this mansard of its air-built glory ! 
But the inexorable facts were there : naught re- 
mained but to take down the mendacious tablet! 
Now — poor jetsam! — it finds harbor in the pas- 
sage of the building in which the worthy bookseller 
Gougy hoards his precious collections. A few en- 
thusiasts protested, insisting that it was " a put up 
job of the government," and the popular tradition 
still has its faithful, — witness the old driver who 
lately came within an ace of immolating us beneath 
an auto on the very spot where the eminent Pro- 
fessor Curie was stupidly crushed in 1906, — in- 
tent as he was upon pointing with his whip to a 
high-perched dormer window: "There, gentlemen, 




No. 5 QUAI CONTI ABOUT 1860 



4 BYWAYS or PARIS 

that 's where Napoleon lived — right up there — 

that's where he learned how to beat them all, 

that 's interesting, hey ? " Before this heroic affirma- 
tion we more than ever deplored the sad mania which 
possesses historians — those spoil-sports of dreamers 
in a ring ! — to do away with legends ! 

The first blow was given in 1884 by the erudite 
Auguste Vitu, who demonstrated that Bonaparte had 
never lodged at 5 quai Conti. Basing his conclu- 
sions on the statements of the Duchesse d'Abrantes, 
M. Vitu found the true " mansarde " at 13 quai 
Conti, in the hotel of Mme. de Permon, mother of 
the Duchesse d'Abrantes, the wife of General Junot. 
This charming little hotel still exists intact, or nearly 
so. The entrance is now at No. 2 impasse Conti, 
and the fine apartments of the first floor are occu- 
pied by the Pigoreau (formerly Nyon) bookstore. 

Certain citations from the Memoires of Mme. 
d'Abrantes amply justify M. Vitu's conclusion. 
" Whenever in these days," she wrote about 1840, 
" I pass along the quai Conti, I cannot refrain from 
looking up at a dormer window at the left angle of 
the house, on the third floor. That was Napoleon's 
room whenever he visited my parents. It was a very 
pretty little room next my brother's." ^ Five lines 
above, Mme. d'Abrantes says categorically : " Under 
the pretext of a sprain. Napoleon passed a whole 
week at our house." Conclusive, one would say ! 
Credulous and confident, therefore, we used to gaze 
with emotion upon the " mansarde at the left angle." 
M. Pigoreau, with exquisite courtesy, had many a 

^ MSmoires de la Duchesse d' Abranies, t. I, p. 59. 



THE MANSARDE OF BONAPARTE 5 

time permitted us to visit not only those noble sculp- 
tured salons on the ground floor which were Mme. 
de Permon's drawing-rooms, but also the picturesque 
nooks and corners of her young men's apartments. 



I 




Mme. d'Abrantes 



We had respectfully climbed the ancient staircase 
with its fine balustrade of wrought iron, leading to 
the famous " mansarde " — a charming room, its 
dormer window commanding an admirable view of 
the Seine. It now forms a part of the abode of M. 
Desjardins, the perfect comedian who — O coinci- 



6 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

dence ! — greatly resembles Bonaparte, whose im- 
perial person he has so ably reproduced at the Porte- 
Saint-Martin Theatre. We too accepted the legend 
of the " mansarde " ! 

Nothing, indeed, could be more credible than the 
statements of Mme. d'Abrantes. The Bonaparte 
and Permon families, both of them of Corsican 
origin, were well acquainted. Mme. de Permon had 
watched over the last moments of Charles Bonaparte, 
the father of the future emperor,^ who died at 
Montpellier the 12th of February, 1785. She had 
received into her own house at Montpellier, " where 
the Permons enjoyed the advantages of a prosper- 
ous fortune," the young Joseph Bonaparte, upon 
whom she lavished " all the care which he might have 
expected from the most devoted mother." 

O disillusionment! All these stories of the youth 
of Bonaparte, the pupil of the military school,^ the 
inmate of Mme. de Permon's home, are without foun- 
dation, concocted for advertising purposes ! " It is 
all false," asserts M. Fr. Masson, one of the most 
trustworthy historians of the Emperor Napoleon. 
" In the first place the pupils of the Ecole Militaire 



1 Memoires de la Duchessc (V Ahr antes, t. I, p. 70. 

^ Napoleon, who was destined for the navy, passed at the School 
of Brienne an excellent examination, the notes of which we possess, 
thanks to the Chevalier de Keralio, Inspector of Militarj' Schools: 
"M. de Bonaparte (Napoleon): born August 15, 1769, four feet 
ten inches, — has passed his Fourth. Constitution and health 
excellent, character submissive, gentle, kindly, grateful. Conduct 
very regular; has always been distinguished for application to 
mathematics. Is fairly good in history and geography; very weak 
in military accomplishments. He would make an excellent sailor; 
worthy to enter the School at Paris. 



THE MANSARDE OF BONAPARTE 7 

never left the school except for military excursions, 
under the charge of their officers. In the next, a 
simple comparison of dates suffices to disprove all 
these legends." And M. Fr. Masson is right: judge 
for yourself. 

It was on November 1, 1784, that Bonaparte — 
who had reached Paris the evening before by the 




Bonaparte 

Burgundian barge, which put him off at the Porte 
Saint-Paul, with four of his fellow students, under 
the surveillance of a Mission Friar — was entered as 
" gentleman-cadet admitted to follow courses " at the 
Ecole Militaire.^ There our hero shared the room 

1 October 22, 1784. The Marshal de Segur, Minister of War, 
signed the brevet of "gentleman-cadet de Bonaparte," on October 30. 
"Departs from the Royal School of Brienne under the conduct of a 



8 BYWAYS OF PxlRIS 

of his " binome " Desmazis, " the only window of 
which looked out upon the great court." A year 
later, October 28, 1785, Bonaparte, named second 
lieutenant of La Fere's regiment (in garrison at 
Valence) after an examination conducted by Laplace, 
in which he was classed forty-second among fifty- 
eight competitors, made " his first free sortie " in 
Paris " under the surveillance of a subaltern officer 
of the school. He paid a visit to M. de Marbeuf, 
bishop of Autun, on the ground floor of the abbatial 
palace of Saint-Germain-des-Pres," and concluded 
the day by " a few drives and walks in Paris." The 
next day Bonaparte and Desmazis set out for Va- 
lence : " They had supped and slept in the neighbor- 
hood of the office of the Lyons diligence which was 
to carry them to their future garrison, and the sub- 
altern — their mentor — had paid the expenses." 

Now, in October, 1785, the Permons, quitting 
Montpellier, had come to Paris and taken up their 
abode (from 1785 to 1792) in the Hotel de Sillery, 
quai Conti. 

Is it not probable that on the eve of departure 
Bonaparte would go to pay his grateful respects 
to Mme. de Permon, who had been so kind to his 
father and younger brother, and may we not accept 
as veracious the following page of the Memoires? 

" I remember the day when he put on his uniform. 
He was as delighted as all young men are at such a 
time. One item of his dress, however (a blue uni- 

Mission Friar in company with MM. de Montarby de Dampierre, 
Castres de Vaux, Laugier de Bellecour, and de Comminges, all 
admitted to the Ecole Militaire at Paris. 




Mme. de Permon's Drawing-Room, now Salon of M. Pigoreau, 

Place Conti No. 2 



10 



BYWAYS or PARIS 



form, blue jacket with red facings and white buttons, 
three-cornered hat, and sword), gave him a very 

ridiculous appearance — his 
boots. They were of such 
singularly great dimensions 
that his little legs, at that 
time very thin, disappeared in 
their amplitude. My sister 
and I could not refrain from 
shouting with laughter. This 
ruffled him. ' It is easy to 
see,' he said to my sister dis- 
dainfully, ' that you are only 
a little boarding-school miss.' 
' And you,' she replied, ' are 
nothing but Puss in Boots ! ' 
Everybody burst out laugh- 
ing." ^ 

Let us, like " everybody," 
amuse ourselves with imagin- 
ing the great drawing-room 
with its gray woodwork, its 
pleasant view of the Seine 
and the Louvre, and the un- 
expected figure of the im- 
perial Puss in Boots, whose 
prodigious strides were to 
overpass by a great deal 
the " seven leagues " parsi- 
moniously allotted to them by the worthy Charles 
Perrault. 




Passage Saint-Roch 



* Memoir es de Madame d' Ahranies, pp. 83 and 86, passim. 



THE MANSARDE OF BONAPARTE 



11 



It is not, however, till 1792 that we have indis- 
putable proof of a visit of the " Artillery Captain " 
Bonaparte to the hotel of the quai Conti. He dined 
there on Thursday, June 14. " Yesterday I dined 
with M. de Permon," he writes to his brother. 
" Madame is extremely agreeable, loves her country 
much, and likes to have Corsicans at her house." 
Did he visit the house little or much.^ It is a matter 




Allegorical Engraving Published about 1800 

of secondary importance. He went there ; that is 
enough to permit us to call up his Caesar-like profile, 
his eagle eyes, his olive complexion, his long hair 
" in dog's ears " reflected in mirrors now dimmed by 
years, but still hanging upon the walls of the salon 
and the " little salon.^'^ We see him, slender in 
his threadbare uniform, leaning against the great 
marble chimney-piece, embittered, indignant, mur- 
muring against his lot, anxiously awaiting a better 
future. 

The year 1792 was indeed peculiarly painful to 



12 



BYWAYS 01' PARIS 



Bonaparte, miserably vegetating in Paris. He had 
been obliged to return from Corsica to defend him- 
self, before War Min- 

"■ "1 

ister Lajard, against a 

p-rsiYe accusation of " in- 
subordination and lack 
1 of discipline." The 28th 
of May he had installed 
himself in the rue Ro- 
yale-Saint-Roch (later 
rue des Moulins) at the 
Hotel of the Dutch Pa- 
triots ( formerly Hotel 
Royal, table d'hote S 
livres) ; but his poverty 
was so great that the 
same day he wrote, " I 
find it too expensive, 
and shall change to-day 
or to-morrow." The 
next day, in fact, he 
took up his abode in the 
rue du Mail, in the 
Hotel de Metz, where 
he occupied room 14 on 
the third floor. " It was 
known that at this time 
he had a debt of 15 
francs at a wine mer- 
chant's in the rue 
Sainte-Avoye,^ and he was reduced to pawning his 




The Corner of the rue 

DES MoiNEAUX AND THE 

RUE DES Moulins 



1 Chateaubriand, Memoires d'Outre-Tombe, t. Ill, p. 24. 



THE MANSARDE OF BONAPARTE 13 

watch at Fauvelet's — a brother of Bourrienne — who 
kept an " enterprise of national auction " at the 
Hotel Longueville, place du Carrousel.^ One might 
see Napoleon eating at the wineshop of "Justat, me 
des Petits-Peres, where a portion cost six sous ! " ^ 

It would appear perfectly natural that in his 
distress Bonaparte should sometimes have sought 
refuge among the few persons whom he knew in 
Paris — he must therefore have gone often to the 
Hotel Permon, where he dined on the fourteenth of 
June. Therefore the souvenir of the god of War 
remains unalterably connected with this house by 
the tenacious bonds of a tradition dear to the people 
of Paris. 

We recall to mind that some fifteen years ago 
M. Pigoreau did us the honor of presenting us to 
Mile. Nyon, a more than octogenarian, whose family 
had occupied the house ever since the Consulate. 
Mile. Nyon received us with that charming grace 
which aged persons sometimes deign to reserve for 
those whom they feel to be lovers of a past which to 
themselves is dear. With deep emotion she related 
to us the famous legend which she had loved from 
childhood ! Poor Mile. Nyon, how distressed she 
w^ould be to see how these terrible modern historians 
have treated her illusions ! After all, as she appears 
to have been a Voltairean in a small way, she would 
probably content herself with denying their infalli- 
bility, and sending them all to the devil ! 

1 Bourrienne, Memoires, t. I, p. 50, 

2 Saint-Hilaire, Habitations najpoleoniennes, p. 65. 



THE OLD QUARTER OF THE 
WHITE MANTLES 



TEN o'clock in the evening. The police station of 
the rue Vieille-du-Temple is crowded ; guardians 
of the peace, cyclists, a dozen plain-clothes men, 
resolute-eyed and stout-fisted. The police captain, 
calmly finishing his cigarette, is giving orders, making 
clear his instructions, anticipating any possible sur- 
prise. " You, brigadier, will guard the court and 
prevent any escape. . . Eight officers will bar the 
street, the others will follow me into the wineshop. . . 
Let no one leave it until after my interrogatory. Act 
promptly and resolutely. . . No noise ; make your 
way there by twos and threes. . . Keep your eyes 
open ; they are sharp fellows. . ." 

A search is to be made in a wine merchant's shop, 
in the neighborhood of the Hotel de Ville, hidden 
away in a tangle of crowded streets in the Marais, — 
Street of the Rosebushes, Street of the King of 
Sicily, Street of the Jews, — dirty alleys almost en- 
tirely inhabited by Jews, Poles, Russians, Germans, 
most of them furriers or capmakers. It is an as- 
tonishing region, a sort of forgotten Ghetto. One 
seldom hears French spoken there, and many of the 
shops, from the butcher's to the barber's, display, 
beside the usual sign, another in Hebrew or Russian 
characters. 



16 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

Our wine merchant dwells in the rue des Ecouffes ; ^ 
his shop is the meeting place for bands of cosmopoli- 
tan thieves: specialists in stealing jewels, cutting 
through walls, receivers of stolen goods, plotters 
of crimes ; nearly all are utterly reckless, ready to 
" unload " a belated pedestrian, to crack a safe, to 
break into a room with two strokes of a jimmy: 
one prise below, one above, the bolt flies and the 
thing is done. 

Complaints come pouring in ; something is in the 
wind. . . We set out, creeping silently along the 
gloomy, sinuous streets in the neighborhood of the 
national printing office. The night is dark ; at times 
the moon casts a bluish light upon the roofs, on the 
angle of a wall, upon a projecting sign; here and 
there a gas-burner throws ruddy, tremulous reflec- 
tions upon the greasy pavement. One by one our 
groups arrive: their passage has attracted atten- 
tion; suspicious persons plunge into dark alleys, 
bareheaded girls rush into hospitable wineshops like 
so many gusts of wind, strident whistles resound — 
but precautions had been well taken, no one has 
succeeded in slipping away. 

The police captain of the quarter, M. Lespine, 
throws away his cigarette, settles his eyeglasses, opens 
the glass door suddenly, and leads the way in. The 
officers rush in after him. They find seventy cus- 
tomers, crowded into a long dark hall, shut off by a 
low partition. All rise, as if moved by a spring. 

1 In this Street of the Kites dwelt our great painter Philippe de 
Champaigne. A tablet affixed to No. 20 states that he died there 
in 1674. 




Rue Vieille-du-Tempi-e about 18G0 



18 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

The " patron," a stout man with crisp black hair, 
remains transfixed with raised arm, still holding in 
his large hand the bottle of " Pernod " from which 
he had been pouring. 

" Let no one move till every one has been 
searched ! " commanded M. Lespine. 

An agonizing silence, then sudden cries, a very 
pale man with a glass in his hand has struck an 
officer in the face. In the turn of a hand the officer 
has doubled him up on a table, knocking off a num- 
ber of bottles in the act. The other customers in- 
tercede : " He must be excused, he is crazy, he is 
' half-cracked,' he is marteau.^^ Incomprehensible 
phrases are being tossed to right and left ; four 
fifths of the drinkers speak only a sort of slang 
made up of words from the Hebrew, Polish, Russian, 
German. 

" Silence ! " commands the captain ; " let that man 
go and hand me the papers ! " 

In a hand's turn an open space is arranged, with 
four tables, three dirty benches, and six chairs. Here 
are arraigned, one by one, the cosmopolitan clients 
of the fat landlord, who looks on in silence, his arms 
crossed upon the tin counter ; behind him is the 
waiter smoking his cigarette. This is n't their first 
police-raid ! The narrow room is filled with smoke 
and smells — sour wine, bitters, absinthe. On the 
walls are several sticky chromolithographs, three 
calls from the General Confederation of Labor in 
as many languages, and at a corner at the left the 
symbolic circle, " the two clasped hands." 

One after another some sixty extraordinary types 




The Barbette Turret, rue Vieille-du-Temple, about 1865 



20 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

pass before the polyglot police captain and his of- 
ficers. Many are well known ; some one whispers 
their various characteristics in our ears : " profes- 
sional thief, housebreaker, Russian terrorist, receiver, 
dealer in human flesh and blood." Each has in his 
hand his " City of Paris," as in this low community 
of thieves they call the permission of residence given 
to foreigners by the Prefect of police, — the docu- 
ment being headed by the words " City of Paris." 

What curious samples of every human race ! Here 
are flat-nosed, curly-haired Kalmucks, rough-hewn 
angular Anglo-Saxon heads, crafty Levantine faces, 
heavy-bearded, bullet-headed Russians of the Crimea, 
mutton-faced Polish Jews. But how wonderfully 
alike are the eyes ! Oh, those restless eyes, those 
sharp eyes, those burning eyes as of hunted beasts, 
those eyes determinately veiled, those eyes which seek 
to conceal their agony of terror, those eyes of hatred 
and revolt ! 

Quietly, deliberately, M. Lespine puts his questions, 
hesitatingly answered by men who hope to ward off 
a more formal examination ; he inspects dirty papers, 
worn thin by use, cut in the folds ; he glances over 
post cards, letters stamped at Odessa, Tobolsk, Riga, 
Nijni-Novgorod, London, Ceylon, addressed now to 
the inn in the rue des Ecouffes, now to one of those 
vague " five-cent lodging houses " which abound in 
the near-by alleys. One sent to the " prison of the 
Sante " is the only certificate one of them can pro- 
duce. Here are yellowed photographs, handbills of 
the races, all written over with notes, a blue pro- 
gram of the Jewish Theatre, 10 rue de Lancry, 



22 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

printed in Hebrew characters and adorned with por- 
traits of seven artists ; here are " peddlers' note 
books," and a package of bonbons ! 

Every time that the door is half opened, either to 
let some one go free or to send some one to the police 
station (where the identity of the vagabonds will be 
more narrowly examined, many of them being already 
subject to summons), the murmurs of the crowd, with 
difficulty kept outside the scene of interest, penetrate 
to us with the whiffs of fresh air. 

The interrogatory goes on ; a man raises his arms 
and is rapidly searched; the inspectors announce 
the result in half a dozen words : "Griskow, of Odessa, 
three francs, candle ends, matches, tobacco, a razor, 
a soiled serviette " (the usual portmanteau of the 
dweller under the bridges, the " limpers," the tramps, 
the flotsam and jetsam of the " refuges "). " Schwartz- 
berg, of Riga, no domicile, journeyman furrier, two 
francs, a razor, speaks no French." " Dickson, one 
sou, brush, razor, candle ends, no domicile nor papers, 
arrived yesterday from London, boxer by profes- 
sion." The interrogatory goes on; now and again 
the officers lay down before the captain jimmies, 
knives, mutton bones, American false knuckles, 
bunches of false keys which the owners had flung 
away in hot haste, under benches, tables, almost 
anywhere. 

We go out — at first merely to breathe, for the 
atmosphere has become stifling and the stench is 
terrible in this small over-heated room, where so 
many are breathing and smoking; afterward to see 
— for the sight is worth the trouble. 



OLD QUARTER OF THE WHITE MANTLES 23 



A double line of guardians of the peace and cycle 
policemen have formed a barrier, setting free the 
door of the inn where the 
interrogatory is going on. 
Behind the barrier are 
massed hundreds of curi- 
ous folk. There is a crowd 
in the street, at the win- 
dows of the neighboring 
buildings and lodging- 
houses. They stare si- 
lently at those who are 
taken off to the police 
station, applaud those 
who go free, stuffing into 
their inside pockets with 
an " Ouf ! " of satisfaction 
their papers, their cer- 
tificates, their " City of 
Paris." Names are shout- 
ed ; there is an indescrib- 
able babel of sounds. From 
the distant darkness arise 
entreaties, the sound of 
blows, cries of wrath, in- 
vectives, threats. 

Pushing our way through 
the howling, swarming 
crowd of starers who encir- - 

cle the wineshop where the Rue Payee au Marais 

inquiry is still going on, we leave the rue des Ecouffes, 
and behold us perambulating this old quarter of the 




24 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

market gardens, the dark outlines of which seem like 
the cast-off scenery of some tragedy of the past. 

These narrow houses, high, bulging, ramshackle, 
forlorn of aspect, with their lanterns dimly reveal- 
ing the legend " Lodging for the Night," strangely 
recall the " cutthroat " alleys of the Middle Ages, 
so marvellously evoked by Gustave Dore in Balzac's 
Contes drolatiques. One might spend hours in ex- 
ploring this ancient quarter, so little known to Pa- 
risians, and yet so interesting. 

It grows late. Into the cold night the twelve 
strokes of midnight have long ago fallen one by one 
from the low tower of the Church of the White 
Mantles. Darkness hides the blotches, the cracks, the 
suppurations of the old buildings, and only the 
strange outlines, the queer doubly distorted roofs 
are visible, outlined against the pale sky across which 
low clouds are scudding. Yet we are not weary of 
threading these sinuous alleys, rue Vieille-du-Temple, 
rue Pavee, rue du Marche-des-Blancs-Manteaux, rue 
Cloche-Perce, rue du Bourg-Tibourg, with their old 
Rabelaisian names, their uncouth, dilapidated build- 
ings, capped with antique pigeon-houses set sidewise 
and all out of plumb. V 

Now and again a couple emerge from the still 
half-open door of a wineshop, search the street 
with suspicious eye, and hasten away. These doubt- 
ful shades are those of the ruffians who haunt such 
resorts as that of the rue des Ecouffes which we had 
that evening raided. In general they are the noc- 
turnal masters of these slimy streets, these corners 
in whose dark shadows lurk such dangers ; they seem 



OLD QUARTER OY THE WHITE MANTLES 25 

to find them particularly threatening to-night. There 
are too many " curious " persons around to please 
these merry men, who, simply as a matter of pro- 
fessional discretion, prefer to keep their little stories 
to themselves. They steal away, therefore, on nim- 
ble feet, their " companions " under their arms, to 
" shool " in the direction of the Markets. There, 
moored in some truly hospitable harbor, — the Night 
Beauty, the Cave, the Smoking Dog, the Angel 
Gabriel, or the Big Bar, — they will patiently await 
the coming of the rosy-fingered Dawn. How snugly, 
in places like these, one may light the brulot (burn 
brandy), munch almonds, laugh, drink, and plan — 
the future, while the nasal accents of the phono- 
graph or the plaintive melodies of the accordion 
and the harmonica soothe them to forgetfulness of 
danger. 



RUE BEAUREGARD 

THE STREET OF THE MOON 

The Good Tidings Church 

Tj^VERY true Parisian lounger knows the high and 
^-^ very narrow house opposite the Porte Saint-Denis 
which separates rue Beauregard from the rue de la 
Lune. This building, perfumed with the odor of 
brioches at a sou each, which are sold there (and 
have been since 1849, as the sign asserts), forms the 
tapering point of a triangle of which the rue Pois- 
sonniere is the base. Wonderful to relate, in this 
point the 1908 plan of Paris and that of 1713, by 
Bernard Jaillot, precisely agree ! Nearly two hun- 
dred years have not modified the ground plan of this 
ancient quarter, where the very alleys remain what 
they always were. Under Louis XIV it was called 
" The New Town " ; to-day it is nothing other than 
an antique corner of Paris, interesting to walk 
through, and the history of which appears to be 
peculiarly qualified to evoke the spirits of the past. 

In the fourteenth century a wealthy religious com- 
munity — the immense domains of the Filles-Dieu, 
the " Daughters of God " — lay between the rue 
Saint-Denis and the market gardens of la Grange- 
Bateliere. At the time of the captivity of King 
John the Good, made prisoner by the English after 
the battle of Poitiers (1356), the fortifications hastily 



28 BYWAYS 01' PARIS 

erected for the defence of the city cut across these 
lands of the Filles-Dieu. One part was enclosed in 
Paris — the ramparts extended as far as the present 
rue d'Aboukir — the rest remained a Parisian suburb ; 
a part of this suburb, converted into a dumping 
ground for the street-cleaning administration, be- 
came known as the " Butte aux Gravois " (Rubbish 
Hill). Under Charles IX numerous mills turned , 
merrily on this height, vines flourished here, wine- I 
shops, bowling greens ; there was dancing under the 
filbert trees, and the pleasant name Beauregard, 
given to one of these streets, is a memory of that 
far-off bucolic time when " Rubbish Hill " became 
" Mill Hill." 1 Then broke forth the Wars of Re- 
ligion which overturned our country, and with it, 
Mill Hill. 

The facts are well known: Henry of Navarre, 
hailed King of France after the assassination of 
Henri HI at Saint-Cloud, the Civil War, the League, 
— that " hydra with two heads, one Spanish, the 
other Guisarde," — the victory of Ivry, opening to 
the Bearnais the road to Paris still in possession of 
the League, the siege of Paris (1590). Henry of 
Navarre surrounds the city, cuts the communica- 
tions, confiscates provision trains, takes possession 
of the suburbs and set up his artillery on the Butte 
aux Moulins,^ transformed into a place of war. Paris 

^ This hutte aux Moulins must not be confounded with the Hill 
of the Mills (butte des Moulins), which was levelled only some thirty 
years ago, and across which now runs the Avenue de I'Opera. 

2 The heights of the Ville-Neuve and its neighbor Notie-Dame- 
de-Bonne-Nouvelle had also their windmills; they are shown in 
plans of the sixteenth century. When the four cornerstones of 




Part of a Plan of the City of Paris, by Bullet and Blondell, 
1670 to 1676 



30 BYWAYS 01' PARIS 

loses its head, — no provisions, no bread, no ammu- 
nition, no forage, anarchy in the government, dis- 
order in the street ; monks of the League preaching 
battle, holding reviews with hood thrown back, morion 
on head, sword at side, halbert on shoulder; militia 
firing arquebus salvos to honor the Pope's legate 
and unluckily killing their own chaplain. The scant 
provisions being exhausted, the rich convent stores 
pillaged, notwithstanding the efforts of the Jesuits 
to close their doors,^ horses, dogs, cats all devoured, 
L'Estoile asserts that the Parisians were reduced to 
eating young children, and bread made of ground 
bones stolen from the cemeteries ! During this time 
the Spanish ambassador caused liards (half-farthing 
coins) to be struck, and thrown among the famishing 
crowds from the windows of his hotel, " thus solacing 
by alms those whom he was starving to death." 

From the top of their walls, ramparts, and towers, 
the famishing Parisians could see only a few yards 
from their city waving harvests, ripening apples, 
growing vegetables. Wretched creatures daily risked 
life in the effort to cut a cabbage or steal a few car- 
rots. Henri IV showed himself very humane ; he toler- 
ated the entrance of provision trains, _ permitted 
women, children, and the sick to leave the city. 
" Ventre-Saint-Gris! I have no desire to reign over 
the dead," he would say. The arrival of the Duke 
of Parma broke the blockade and delivered Paris. 
Every one knows the rest — the battles of Lagny, of 



the church were laid, August 28, 1551, the place was already known 
as the Mount of the Mill (la Montagne du Moulin) . 
^ MicHELET, Histoire de France, p. 316. 



32 BYWAYS OF PARIS ' 

Corbeil, the abjuration of Henri IV, his letter to 
the Beautiful Gabrielle, " On Sunday I shall make the 
perilous leap " ; the crowning of the king at Saint- 
Denis, his triumphal entry into Paris (March 22, 
1594), his farewell to the Spanish troops from one 
of the windows of the Porte Saint-Denis : " Pleasant 
journey, gentlemen, and return no more! " ^ 

At once Paris recovers from its wounds ; a " New 
City" (Ville Neuve) is built on the "rubbish" of 
Mill Hill (butte aux Moulins). Louis XIII, desiring 
to attract population thither, grants patents of com- | 
plete franchise to artisans who will open shops 
there." The call was heard by a great number of 
workers in furniture ; under Louis XIV cabinet 
makers flocked thither ; even in our own day a cer- 
tain number may be found there whose original 
establishment dates from this remote epoch.^ 

^ This Porte Saint-Denis was one of the gates of the rampart. 
The existing Porte Saint-Denis dates from Louis XIV. 

2 Letters patent of the year 1623 accord full franchise to all per- 
sons who will settle there to carry on arts and trades, that is to say, 
" the privilege of laboring freely and publicly, and of keeping shops 
after the manner of those of the Temple." Cabinet makers, whom 
a similar franchise had generally attracted to the privileged ground 
of the Abbey Saint- Antoine, but who only asked liberty to occupy 
other points in the suburbs on the same conditions, were the first 
to hasten to the quarter designated by these letters patent. Under 
Louis XIV, the entire place had been occupied: "There are in the "^ 
Ville Neuve," we read in the "Handy Book of Addresses" (Livre 
commode des adr esses), a great number of joiners who make all sorts 
of furniture not turned. 

^ La Ville -Neuve. — The fortifications which had necessarily 
been made during King Jean's captivity had cut the property of 
the Filles-Dieu into two parts. The nuns took refuge in the city, 
and built a new enclosure around their monastery, of which a part 
was later taken for new fortifications. This place eventually was 
taken for a dumping ground; under Charles IX some trenches were 
dug there, called by the people and by historians "yellow trenches," 



RUE BEAUREGARD 33 

The (Bonne-Nouvelle) Good Tidings Church was 
built, and Queen Anne of Austria ^ deigned to come 
in person to lay the cornerstone of the choir. The 
population of Ville-Neuve increased, but side by side 
with a goodly number of working people a deplor- 
able population slipped in. Those who were so im- 
prudent as to venture into its sparsely settled streets 
were unmercifully fleeced and even held to ransom. 
Women of evil life, coureuses de rempart, — and the 
ramparts were close at hand, occupying the site of 
the present Boulevards, — flocked hither in such 
numbers that the surrounding parts of Ville-Neuve, 
the rue de la Lune, the Porte Poissonniere, the rue 



from the color of the soil. Houses were here built about the begin- 
ning of the sixteenth century, and even a chapel, and this suburb, 
which was daily becoming more important, received the name of 
the New City. 

The misfortunes which the League brought upon France, and 
especially upon the city of Paris, rendered necessary the destruc- 
tion of this suburb and the demolition of its houses. The surface of 
the ground being raised by the ruins, when peace had dissipated all 
fears, and the faubourg was rebuilt, it received the name of Villeneuve- 
sur-Gravois (the new City-upon-Rubbish) . — Jaillot, Recherches sur 
Paris, t. II, Quartier Saint-Denis, p. 10. 

1 Tradition says that while passing along the boulevard, near 
the old Chapel of Saint-Louis and Sainte-Barbe, razed during the 
siege of Paris, the queen received some good news, and that in 
consequence she felt impelled to rebuild the new temple of the Virgin, 
under the title Our-Lady-of-Good-Tidings (Notre-Dame-de-Bonne- 
Nouvelle) . The church, sold during the Revolution, was rebuilt in 
1823 to 1830; nothing of the ancient edifice remains except the 
seventeenth century bell-tower. After the sack of Saint-Germain- 
I'Auxerrois, the Bonne-Nouvelle Church was assailed in February, 
1871, by a band of 400 men, whose work of devastation was for- 
tunately arrested in time by a battalion of the National Guard. 
But in 1871, during the Commune, it was completely devastated, and 
its priest, M. Becourt, was imprisoned and at the close of the insur- 
rection massacred by the insurgents. May 27, 1871. — Duplessy, 
Paris-Religieux, pp. 45, 46. 



84 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

Merderet, gained the appellation " The Women's 
Field." Farther away, however, near the Porte 
Saint-Denis, vast gardens, fine hotels surrounded 
with verdure, made this distant quarter a choice 
place of residence, half town, half country, a favorite 
resort of quiet folk, lovers, " magicians, card 
sharpers, dealers in secrets " for " sorcerers and 
exorcisers," Avhom it was wise to visit incognito. 
Houses for seclusion were there and also houses of 
rendezvous ; on the rue Beauregard was the " dwell- 
ing surrounded with grass plots " of the redoubtable 
poisoner, la Voisin, who, after having set up as 
diviner, " to restore order and comfort in her house- 
hold," expended in feasting the hundred thousand 
francs which she annually gained by the exercise of 
her infamous trade. 

Let us take a stroll in this ancient quarter. Set- 
ting out from the Porte Saint-Denis, let us climb the 
rue Beauregard, where amidst modern horrors it is 
not difficult to discover here and there some traces 
of a glorious past, — sculptured pediments, wrought 
iron balconies, foliage, window casings dating from 
the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. When we 
reach No. 17, opposite the more than modest hotel 
which mistakenly passes for the one-while abode of 
Andre Chenier, — let us turn and admire a delicious 
Parisian landscape : the Porte Saint-Denis with its 
noble decorative sculptures, — inspiring reminder of 
the victories of Louis XIV on the Rhine, — framed 
in, golden with light, between two lines of gray old 
houses which close the Butte Bonne-Nouvelle. 

Pursuing our road, we pause again at No. 23, 




The Poisoner La Voisin 



36 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

opposite the alley of the Staircase. It might well be 
here that La Voisin had her " poison shop " ; at her 
first interrogatory she declared that she lodged in 
the " Ville-Neuve, rue Beauregard." We have no 
more explicit indication, but if it is not precisely 
here it is surely not very far from here. The place 
was judiciously chosen: between two sparsely occu- 
pied streets, a mysterious house with an exit also 
upon the rue de la Lune, within a few steps of the 
ramparts ; nothing beyond but fields and vineyards. 
Very probably it was to this house that, carefully 
wrapped in their hoods, their faces hid behind velvet 
masks, furtively came Mazarin's two nieces, the 
Countess of Soissons and the Duchess of Bouillon — 
all the tragic actors in the infamous drama of the 
Poisons. May not " Proud Vashti " herself, the 
beautiful Montespan, have sometimes slipped in, ac- 
companied by La Desoeillets, to attend some obscene 
"black mass "? Documents in the Arsenal and the 
National Library, Mme. de Sevigne's letters, the 
remarkable studies of Father Ravaisson and Father 
Funck-Brentano, Maitre Sardou's fine drama, have ^ 
thrown light upon this outrageous and terrible cause 
celebre, the most shameful evidences„ of which j 
Louis XIV was careful to burn with his own hand, x, 
after having, however, had the grace to restore to a 
few imprudent personages certain compromising notes, 
which had been seized in the rue Beauregard. One 
of these notes, signed with the great name of the 
Duchesse de Foix, bore these words : " The more I 
rub them, the less they grow." The puzzled " Sun- 
King " asked the meaning of this enigma, and the 



RUE BEAUREGARD 



37 



Duchess was fain to avow that " she had asked for a 
recipe for a plump neck (se faire venir de la gorge). ^' 
Evidently La Voisin not only sold " powders for 




Grating formerly Opening upon the Gardens of La Voisin 

inheritance " (poudre a succession) but also kept a 
" beauty parlor." 

At present the house, which, as formerly, has an 
exit upon the rue de la Lune (at No. 25), is entirely 
occupied by a bedding manufactory, and the courte- 



38 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

ous manager, Mme. Gruhier, is kindly willing to show 
us the remains of what was apparently the dwelling 
of the " artist in poisons." Here, enclosed in the 
wall and long ago filled up, is an old well, the pulley 
still turning at the end of a rope ; here are traces 
of wooden stairways, worn flagstones, a rusty grat- 
ing which once opened upon the gardens. 

We go up to the first floor : here it was that some 
workmen discovered the original ceiling under in- 
numerable layers of wall paper. It is somewhat 
startling to hear from Mme. Gruhier that this ceil- 
ing was completely painted black ! Is it possible that 
this room, now so decently correct, could have been 
that secret chamber in which, in 1679, the abominable 
rites of the "black mass" were performed.'^ Have 
these fragments of sculptured cornice reflected the 
flame of black wax candles, lighting the travesty of 
an altar, where ribald wretches — ? Plunged in 
thought, we leave this house, interesting by so man}' 
titles ! 

Pursuing our walk, we reach the Eglise Bonne- 
Nouvelle, rebuilt in 1824 after having been the 
temple of the Goddess of Reason under the Revolu- 
tion. Its tower alone dates from the seventeenth 
century.^ In this high-perched rue Beauregard, where 

^ The Composition of the Butte Bonne-Nouvelle. — Ex- 
cavations made in 1824 for the foundations of the new Church 
of Notre-Dame-de-Bonne-Nouvelle, have afforded me a precious 
opportunity to ascertain the composition of this hill, from its base 
to its summit — a depth of more than fifty feet. It is evident from 
its numerous stratifications that it once served as a place of deposit 
not only of old plaster work, the rubbish and ruins of houses, but 
also for the filth and refuse of the city streets. I have found dis- 
tributed through this mass a multitude of utensils and broken pieces 
of furniture perfectly indicating the customs and the state of certain 



W 

o 
o 



y. 

^ 



i2 

H 

O 



00 

I— ' 




40 



BYWAYS OF PARIS 



carriages are few, lovely curly-headed babies are 
playing in the gutters ; a cobbler is singing gayly as 




Ro^iuu jUl„*«.a4^ 






tu^ V 



Boulevard Bonne-Nouvelle 

he re-soles old shoes; a flower merchant pushes her 
basket-cart before her, laden with chrysanthemums, 

arts at these remote periods. I have been especially struck by the 
brilliancy, the beauty, and the fine quality of certain tissues of silk, 
as well as the perfect preservation of the colors of woollen stuffs. A 
prodigious quantity of bits and fragments of leather, worked up and 
not worked, were found. I also discovered certain plants which 
expert botanists recognize as originally from Africa. Finally, on 
reaching the natural soil, we found a field planted with vines, from 
which several portions of branches and roots were brought out in a 
state of perfect preservation. If all the different objects found in 
this mass were to be brought together, they would form an interesting 
museum, of an entirely new sort. — Parent-Duchatelet, Hygiene 
publique, t. I, pp. 180, 181, 



RUE BEAUREGARD 41 

violets, asters, marigolds. Women's heads appear, 
peeping from behind narrow windows hung with little 
curtains ; other ladies, their carefully pomaded hair 
in puffs, perambulate with philosophic air. It is just 
the same in all the dusty and malodorous slums which 
lie between the rue Beauregard and the Boulevards. 
The region is more familiar than family-like. 

We return to our point of departure by the rue 
de la Lune ; here again are antique houses, sculp- 
tured pediments, old gratings, wrought iron-work. 

We approach the Porte Saint-Denis. There is 
still a smell of fried cakes (brioches) , but a smell of 
absinthe, too. The ancient houses have been modern- 
ized; here are bars reeking with liquor; here is the 
" saloon of the Black Cat, kept by Mme. Yvette " ; 
here are cinema theatres, and our ears are assailed 
with the refrain of Viens, Poupoule, discharged from 
a redoubtable phonograph. How, in such an uproar, 
shall we think of the beautiful Montespan.'^ 



SEINE LANDSCAPES 



Tj^o^ some time past the idlers of the Pont-Neuf 
-*- (thej date from Henri III and are the most an- 
cient loungers' of Paris), as they lean over the para- 
pet, have been gazing with charmed and delighted eyes 
at a jaunty white yacht moored alongside the quai 
des Orfevres, opposite the Place Dauphine. It is an 
unfamiliar sight for Parisian eyes, and the before- 
mentioned loungers never weary of curiously watch- 
ing the coming and going of the sailors, as they un- 
coil cables and polish brasses ; nor especially do they 
weary of staring at the pretty women who read, con- 
verse, or pace the matted deck of the great white 
vessel. 

While other owners of yachts are making their 
headquarters at Mentone, Nice, or Monaco, an art- 
loving Parisian woman has been pleased to fly her 
colors nowhere else than in Paris. And what part 
of Paris has it pleased her to select? The oldest, the 
most venerable, the most picturesque ! Beside the 
steep bank of the Cite, at the very place where our 
first ancestors used to moor their light barks to the 
wooden posts of Lutetia, lies to-day the elegant yacht 
aboard of which we breakfasted the other morning 
with an inspiring company of artists, writers, law- 
yers, journalists — all of us rapturously contemplat- 



44 



BYAVAYS or PARIS 



ing the scenery of the Seine — so famihar to us all 
— which on that day seemed to us quite new. 

One thinks he knows Paris. Profound mistake! 
Merely by the influence of the season, the day, the 
hour, the weather, even this Protean Paris becomes 




Pont-Neuf seen from the Yacht 



changed, transformed to such a point that it is 
always an unexpected, unsuspected, almost an un- 
known Paris which suddenly reveals herself to her 
lovers, and lavishes upon them all the enchantment 
of visions as yet undreamed of ! 

Such is our case to-day, when each great arch of 
the Pont-Neuf making blue circles in the green Seine 
strangely frames in a part of the view. The magic 



SEINE LANDSCAPES 



45 



of the picture lends vividness to the magic of memory. 
Our view begins in the violet distances of the trees 
of the Tuileries, follows the palace of the Louvre, 
the leafy point of the Cite, the historic mansions of 
the Place Dauphine ; it pauses at the Pont-Neuf, 




A Nook in the Seine 



skirts the Palais de Justice and Notre Dame, and 
fades away beyond the Pont Saint-Michel, behind rue 
Galande, upon which looks down the venerable spire 
of Saint-Severin, the old Parisian church where Dante 
prayed, they say. Spirits long departed mingle with 
the noble scene, as the reflections of bridges, towers, 
and roofs mingle, quivering, with the water of the 



46 



BYWAYS OF PARIS 



river softly plashing under the keel of the yacht from 
which we gaze upon this fairy-like picture. 

Every stone eloquently narrates some fine human 
adventure, a page of the history of France or of 
Paris. The pictures of Raguenet which hang on 




The Bridge from the Yacht 

the walls of the Carnavalet Museum show, toward the 
close of the eighteenth century, this slope of the 
quai des Orfevres, where our boat is moored, covered 
with little houses built upon piles ; the bridges of 
Notre-Dame and Saint-Michel, the Pont au Change, 
were all built over with small wooden houses, similar 
to those which are still found on the Ponte Vecchio 
in Florence. These slight buildings, many times de- 



SEINE LANDSCAPES 47 

stroyed by fire, did not finally disappear till about 
1788. 

At the time of the Revolution the banks of the 
Seine had been monopolized by rope-makers, who 
spun their long cordages there ; but at all times and 
under every government the real familiars of the 
banks have been the fishermen. In Hubert Robert's 
pictures, in those of Raguenet, Noel, Demachy, Can- 
ella, in the drawings of Saint-Aubin, of Bacler d'Albe, 
Carle Vernet, Duplessis-Bertaut, Daumier, or of Ber- 
tall, one finds the inevitable fisherman with his line. 
He fished during the Terror, during the days of 
June, during the siege; he was still fishing during 
the red week of May, 1871 ! In the last hours of 
the dying Commune, while the Tuileries, the Louvre, 
the Cour des Comptes, the rue de Lille, and the 
palace of the Legion of Honor were flaming like 
torches, while Paris was burning, while men were 
slaughtering, shooting one another, not for a single 
day — it is an ascertained fact — were the banks of 
the Seine without their familiar visitors, fishermen 
with their lines. What do I say? Enthusiasts were 
all the less likely to be absent because, thanks to so 
many cataclysms, they might fish during the closed 
season ! 

* * 

After the shores, the quays ; this quai des Or- 
fevres which now overhangs us evokes the splendid 
memory of that Goldsmiths' Guild which during so 
long a time here displayed its wealth and luxury. 



48 



BYWAYS OF PARIS 



Hither Paris was in the habit of coming to ad- 
mire the magnificences of the Laliques, the Bouche- 




The Slope of the Goldsmiths' Quay 

rons, the Cartiers of these days.^ In 1700 thirty- 
six goldsmiths' shops might be counted on this 

^ Their display was hardly inferior to that of our shops of the 
Palais-Royal, which, indeed, are simply their successors. Add to 
these the dainty splendor of the jewellers' shops which sparkled 
along the same row, and the varied brilliancy of the shops of the 
dealers in high-grade second-hand goods, of which those of Fagnani, 
Malafer, and Granchez were the most magnificent, and you may 
gain an idea of the glittering glories of the region near Pont-Neuf. 
These second-hand dealers were at first somewhat contemptuously 
called mixed merchants; "that will be," says Etienne Pasquier, "a 
mingled commodity, such as those hardware merchants have, who 
provide their shops with all sorts of merchandise in order to make 
the more rapid sales." — Edouard Fournier, Histoire du Pont-Neuf, 
t. I, p. 282. 



SEINE LANDSCAPES 49 

quay; in the windows sparkled gold chains, sword 
hilts, clasps, baldricks, silver platters, pyxes, reli- 
quaries, monstrances ; on the day of the Fete-Dieu 
procession the goldsmiths used to erect on the Place 
Dauphine gigantic resting places on which they lav- 
ished their treasures ; the neighboring picture dealers 
would put at their disposal " the canvases which they 
did not fear to have spoiled and the subjects of 
which were the least profane." ^ A week later this 
same Place Dauphine — that monumental triangle of 
which King Henri IV himself had traced the plan — 
would belong to the young " independent painters," 
— those who belonged neither to the Royal Academy 
nor to the Academy of Saint-Luc; on that morning 
(the Thursday of the little Fete-Dieu from six o'clock 
till noon) they had the right to hang their works 
upon the shutters of the shops surrounding the place. 
All Paris would crowd to this triple fete of youth, 
art, and springtime ; beautiful women, pretty-faced 
models came in flocks ; lovers of art and lovers of 
beauty alike found here what they wanted. 

It was on the blinds of a shop of the Place 
Dauphine — a fragment of it is there still — torn 
down to make room for the ugly and incommodious 
staircase of the Palais de Justice, that in 171T I^an- 
cret hung the two paintings which laid the founda- 
tion of his reputation, and which the critics of the 
day, almost as infallible as those of our own time, 
felt no hesitation in according to Watteau. Upon 
some other such place in 1720 a young man of twenty, 
J. B. Chardin, " son of the master cabinet-maker 

1 Le Pantheon litter aire, 1789, p. 187. 



50 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

who made the king's billiard tables," hung a canvas, 
so perfect an " imitation of an ancient bas-relief " 
that J. B. Vanloo bought it immediately, " at a 
higher price than Chardin had dared to hope for." 
It was his first exhibit. Eight years later, this same 
Chardin exhibited, on the same Place Dauphine and 
on the same conditions already mentioned, La Raie, 
that chef-cVceuvre which we may admire to-day in 
the Museum of the Louvre.^ 

At our left, in the direction of the quai des Grands- 
Augustins, the oldest of Parisian quays, those new 
houses which are separated only by a narrow street 
from the Laperouse restaurant, with its admirable 
wrought-iron balconies, its admirably sculptured gro- 
tesques, were built upon the site of the Poultry 
Market, constructed in 1809 upon the ruins of a 
convent of the Grands-Augustins, demolished in 
1791 by the Revolution. Here, in the times of the 
Valois, the grotesque processions of the " Favor- 
ites " (Mignons) used to pass, going to do penance 



1 Desiring to foresee the opinions of the principal oflScers of this 
body, Chardin indulged himself in an innocent artifice. He placed 
his pictures in the first salle, as if by chance, and himself remained 
in the second. Arrives M. de Largilliere, an excellent painter, one 
of the best colorists and most learned theorists upon the effects of 
light; struck by these pictures, he stops to consider them before 
entering the second hall of the Academy, where the candidate was 
waiting; on entering he said, "You have some very fine pictures 
there; they are assuredly by some good Flemish painter; the Flemish 
is an excellent school for color. Now let us see your works." 

" Monsieur, you have just seen them." " What ! those are your pic- 
tures which — ? " "Yes, sir." "Oh," said M. de Largilliere, "present 
yourself, my friend, present yourself! " The reception of Chardin, 
accepted and approved as painter of flowers, fruits, and character 
subjects, took place September 25, 1728. — E. and J. de Gon- 
couRT (Chardin), L'Art au XV IIP Steele. 



52 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

in the Church of the Grands- Augustins, where the 
Knights of the Holy Spirit had met when this 
order was founded by Henri III in 1579. 

After the Revolution, the quays from Pont-Neuf 
to Pont-Royal were converted into an immense bric- 
a-brac shop. 

There, in the shops along the walls leaning against 
the trees which border the Seine, were heaped up the 
relics, the spoils torn from dismantled chateaux, con- 
vents, churches, the great hotels. There lay heaped, 
pell-mell, family portraits and odd pieces of furni- 
ture, pictures of saints and Olympian divinities, 
armorial tapestries and music-boxes, Sevres porce- 
lains and untuned harpsichords. On these quays, too, 
the Terror set up those " revolutionary meals " where 
poverty-stricken folk snatched at " plates of toasted 
red herrings, sprinkled with young onions, alternat- 
ing with earthen pans full of prunes and salads." 

It was to the quai des Orfevres that, about half- 
past eight in the evening of the 9th Thermidor, 
Robespierre was brought, outlawed by the Conven- 
tion, and refused as a prisoner by the concierge of 
the house of detention of the Luxembourg. His 
friends accompanied him, with acclamations, to the 
Police Administration in the old buildings which 
until 1871 were occupied by the Prefecture of police. 
These buildings included not only the ancient hotel 
of the President de Harlay, whose gardens reached 
as far as to the Seine, but also a group of tottering, 
dislocated houses in which, according to the needs, 
had been installed " the services." Robespierre had 
quitted the police department only upon the reiter- 



w 
in 

> 

S3 



O 

w 



00 

CO 

o 




54 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

ated entreaties of his partisans, who demanded his 
presence at the Hotel de Ville — where he was to 
experience the pistol shot of Meda, downfall, arrest, 
and death. 

A narrow lane, Jerusalem Alley, used to open upon 
the quay: at the left was an ancient bell-turret, then 
the tops of trees (the garden of the prefect) ; at the 
right a house with a pigeon-cote dating from the 
eighteenth century ; at the end a vaulted door 
(recently rebuilt in the garden of the Carnavalet 
Museum) served as the principal entrance to the 
Prefecture. All this is now covered by the rue de 
Harlay. 

Without counting the Ministers of Police, — 
Fouche, Rovigo, Beugnot, Pasquier, etc., who lodged 
in the quai Voltaire and in the rue des Saints-Peres, 
— how many prefects have succeeded one another in 
the rue de Jerusalem ! In 1848 it was the amazing 
Caussidiere, who, after having promoted himself, 
surrounded himself with a Pretorian guard, " the 
Mountaineers of Caussidiere " (infantry and cav- 
alry), who during nearly three months terrified 
Paris. Impromptu Prefect of police, Caussidiere, 
after breaking off all relations with the government, 
issued a proclamation, recommending " the people 
expressly to lay down neither their arms nor their 
revolutionary attitude." ^ 

^ The Prefecture of police, subjected to the orders of Caussidiere 
and Sobrier, became filled with former members of secret societies, 
organized into closed companies like the Pretorian guard for a future 
dictator, Caussidiere had no communication with the Hotel de 
Ville; he had, of his own initiation, published the list of the Reforme 
as the official list of the government. This proclamation con- 



SEINE LANDSCAPES 55 

MM. de Maupas, Boitelle, Pietri, under the second 
Empire, MM. Edmond Adam and Cresson, under the 
third Republic, were the last prefects to inhabit the 
quai des Orfevres. In 1871 the Commune of Paris 
gave them as successor a disciple of Hebert and 
Marat, a young fellow who called Couthon an " old 
crutch," and found Saint-Just " without energy " — 
Raoul Rigault. 

After having for a time occupied the fine dwelling 
of the " ex-Prefect of police," this singular " pro- 
cureur " installed himself in the Palais de Justice, 
whence, on May 23, he sent out the order " to call 
out and shoot the gendarmes detained in the House 
of Justice." ^ The next morning the old Prefecture 



tained the following: "The people are expressly recommended not 
to lay down their arms, nor to leave their positions or their revolu- 
tionary attitude. They have been treacherously betrayed too often; 
it is important never again to permit the possibility of attempts so 
terrible and so criminal." 

Conformably with the advice of this friend of the people, the city 
became a great bivouac, yet added nothing either to public safety 
or to confidence. 

1 On the 23d, at noon, an officer of the federates, followed 
by a squad which halted on the quay, made his way into the 
record office; sent by Raoul Rigault, he bore the order to call out 
and shoot the gendarmes detained in the House of Justice; by a 
happy chance it was a general order without indication of names or 
number. 

M; Durlin — at that time director — proved his coolness. He 
took the order from the hands of Raoul Rigault's emissary, saying 
carelessly, "We have no gendarmes here at present. There is some 
error: the gendarmes have been transferred. Look in the offices 
of the Prefecture." 

The federate departed, but returned at the end of half an hour. 
"We found no one, the gendarmes must be here." "No," replied 
the recorder; then, addressing himself to Genin, the overseer, "Open 
all the cells, that the citizen delegate may convince himself that 
there is not a gendarme in them." 

The delegate did his duty faithfully, but found no gendarme. He 



56 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

of police, having first been drenched with petroleum, 
was flaming like a match, and with it the most 
precious records of the secret life of Paris. " We '11 
toast the curiosity box ! " said the scoundrel in charge 
of the auto-da-fe. He kept his word. 

■ Were we not right in saying that every stone in 
these old Seine quays has its story .^^ Strange story, 
where laughter is close to tears, where virtue walks 
hand in hand with crime, and everything seems topsy- 
turvy, incoherent, grotesque, odious, or sublime, like 
the dead leaves that fall from the plane trees into 
the trays of old books along the quay and are 
mingled with the loveliest legends of love and glory. 

had been carefully not conducted to the "coachmen's quarter," 
of the existence of which he was ignorant. He retired with a salute, 
"Sorry to have disturbed you." The hostages were saved. — 
Maxime Du Camp, Les Convulsions de Paris, t. I, p. 169. 



THE CITY HALL AND THE PLACE 
DE GREVE 

JULY 3J, J830 

O EVERAL years ago, strolling, in the neighborhood, 
^ some impulse led me to climb the six interminable 
staircases of the Hotel des Invalides, the attics of 
which shelter a precious collection of " relief plans 
of fortified places," to be seen only at certain widely 
distanced times. These plans in relief, some of 
which date from the sixteenth century, occupy a long 
series of mansard rooms, and form a small museum, 
too little known but most interesting. The oldest 
were made by order of Louvois, anxious to place 
before the eyes of Louis XIV a view of his conquests ; 
the most recent, the plan of the harbor of Cherbourg, 
was completed in 1872. At the time of the invasion, 
in 1815, the allies " borrowed " from the Invalides 
some of these beautiful topographic toys, which still 
adorn German and Austrian museums. 

Nothing can be more astonishing, at a first glance, 
than these tiny but accurate reproductions of cities, 
not only calling up heroic memories, but also offer- 
ing a perfect picture of a lilliputian strong city, as 
it would appear from a balloon. Moats, counter- 
scarps, bastions, redans^ market gardens, winding 
streets, small mansard-roofed dwellings, mansions 
with sculptured fronts, cathedrals bristling with little 



58 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

bell towers, — nothing is left out. Here are linden- 
bordered promenades, malls, shrubberies, bowling 
greens — dear to our ancestors. Here we see 
Maestricht, Berg-op-Zoom, Bouillon, surrounded with 
dense forests, Namur, Laon, high-perched upon its 
rock, Arras, Saint-Omer, Ypres. Here is Avesnes, 
with its fortifications and its fields. Here, even, in 
a corner on the right of the great public place, 
cowering under the church with its Spanish tower, 
is a hospitable house very dear to our hearts, and 
we can almost see our friend G. Lenotre emerging 
at early dawn, gaitered like a Mohican, an arsenal 
of fishing rods on his shoulder, on his way to 
" hobble " with a firm hand the carp in some neigh- 
boring pool. 

Pursuing our picturesque journey, we contemplate 
Constantinople, Sebastopol, Antwerp, Gibraltar — 
and suddenly, a great surprise ! A marvellous vision 
rises before us ; the Place de Greve on July 31, 
1830, at the moment when Louis Philippe, lieutenant- 
general of the nation, is crossing it amid the ac- 
clamations of the populace, on his way to the Hotel 
de Ville, where he will complete his conquest of the 
throne of Charles X, overturned by the <hree " glori- 
ous days " of street fighting. 

Before this astounding apparition, which carries 
us back seventy-eight years, we seem to be present 
(as our grandfather actually was) at the apotheosis 
of the Revolution of 1830. As from a window opened 
upon the public square we perceive all the upheavals 
of an effervescing people. Thousands of tiny per- 
sonages are running hither and thither around the 






O 
•=1 

a 

H 

W 
o> 

H 
H 



f 

H 

W 
f 

O 



O 

a 

H 

H 

a 

d 
w 







60 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

" City House," grouping themselves around the most 
celebrated actors in this political comedy. Here is 
Louis Philippe on horseback; near him a sedan chair 
holds the banker Laffitte, helpless with an untimely 
attack of gout ; a second chair is occupied by Ben- 
jamin Constant, — two of the principal leaders in 
the movement. The national guard appears, drums 
beat, the sovereign people acclaim the hero whom 
to-morrow they will hiss ; at the windows, on the 
sidewalks, on the terraces, are thousands of wonder- 
ing folk. This " relief plan," some two yards square, 
nearly three in depth, is certainly the first of " in- 
stantaneous " pictures, and it dates from 1833 ! Its 
author, Foulley, was a retired soldier, who devoted 
his unoccupied hours to the marvellous reproduction 
of the most salient events of his time. 



* 
* * 



The photographic reproduction of this plan gives 
the sensation of a document taken from the very life. 
The plan itself is still more impressive, since to the 
sensation of a crowd is added the magic of color. 

Here are the painted houses, the ancient stones, 
the antique windows, the tiled roofs, the carrottes of 
tobacco peddlers ; here are the uniforms, the shakos, 
the uplifted muskets ; the ladies in shawls and hooped 
skirts ; the cocoa sellers threading their way among 
the loungers ; the very dust which sprinkles the soil 
of the Place de Greve is the " dust of an epoch ! " 

Imagination lending her aid, the illusion is com- 
plete ; before us rises the glorious and imposing mass 



n 

H 
O 

O 

o 






H 
1-3 

a 

B 

W 
o> 

H 

a 
a 

<3 






5 
p" 

3 




62 



BYWAYS OF PARIS 



of the old Hotel de Ville, that City Hall of Paris 
where some of the most celebrated dramas in French 
history were played. We have tested the accuracy 
of this surprising reproduction, and can bear witness 
that never was nature reproduced with more scrupu- 
lous fidelity. The building with gothic turrets, the 




QUAI DE LA GrEVE AND PaRT OF THE HoTEL DE ViLLE ABOUT 1830 



historic lanterns at the entrance of the rue du 
Mouton, the rue de la Mortellerie, the arcade Saint- 
Jean, the wineshop " To the Image of Our Lady " ; 
the multi-colored shops, red, green, blue ; the scaf- 
foldings surrounding the campanile of the Hotel de 
Ville, the yellow tint of M. Laffitte's sedan chair,^ 
" borne by Savoyards," the greenish color of that of 
M. Benjamin Constant, Louis Philippe's white horse; 

^ Histoire de dix ans, par Louis Bianc, p. 349, 'passim. 



CITY HALL AND THE PLACE DE GRI:VE 63 

the students of the Polytechnic, sword in hand, form- 
ing a hedge ; before the door the scattered straw which 
had served for the bivouac of the previous night ; the 
wineshop of the quai Pelletier riddled with bullets, 
the window-panes broken by the hail of balls, — all 
is rigorously true to facts, and affords a most precious 
document concerning this extraordinary revolution, 
which in three days laid low the throne of Charles X, 
and replaced the white flag of the -fieur de lis by the 
tricolor. 

Nothing can be more interesting, more brilliant 
than this popular movement which brought together 
nearly every social class. The best writers of that 
day signed the call to arms, — MM. Thiers, Mignet, 
Armand Carrel, Chambolle, Rolle, de Remusat, Baude, 
Alexis de Jussieu, Cauchois-Lemaire, Evariste Du- 
moulin, Leon Pillet, Bohain, Roqueplan. Forty-five 
men of letters, in the name of the freedom of the 
mind, risked their heads by inscribing their names 
at the foot of a protest against royal ordinances 
drawn up by M. de Polignac and signed by the aged 
King Charles X. 

The explosion of wrath which convulsed Paris was 
sudden and terrible. In a few hours barricades arose 
as it were from the earth, hosts of armed protesters 
gathered, drums beat the call to arms of the na- 
tional guard, working men and students rushed into 
the streets, the students of the Polytechnic, " after 
having sharpened on the flagstones of the corridors 
of the school the foils from which they had removed 
the buttons," forced the doors, and in dress uniform 
took command of bands of insurgents ; every Parisian 



64 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

transformed himself into a soldier, and the unlucky 
soldiers of the royal guards fell under the discharge 
of muskets loaded with printers' type in default of 
balls. 

Side by side with the veterans of the first Empire, 
heroes of Jena, Eylau, Austerlitz, and Waterloo, still 
wearing their glorious uniforms, 

"Those blue coats worn by victory," ^ 

were combatants in hunting jackets, in frock coats, 
in blouse, in overalls ; others wearing uniforms from 
the Vaudeville, where a military piece (" Sergeant 
Matthew ") was being played. Alfred Arago, the 
director of the theatre, had put arms and costumes at 
the disposition of the rioters ! The Museum of Ar- 
tillery had been forced ; the admirable lithographs 
of Raffet which form the "Album of 1831" show 
us the gutter-snipes of Paris, their heads enveloped 
in the morion of a Leaguer or a pikeman's helmet 
— improvised commissariat — carrying to the " bar- 
ricarders " " balls of zinc for the cuirassiers." ^ ' 

1 Le vieux soldat, Beranger. 

2 The soldiers who occupied the Place de Greve defended them- 
selves with great courage and seriousness. Every house became a 
castle, and every window a porthole. Three men posted behind a 
chimney had long kept up a murderous fire upon the troop when 
they were at last discovered. A cannon was pointed against the fatal 
chimney; but before firing upon it the cannoneer signed to those 
behind it to get away. A detachment cf the Fiftieth preceded by 
cuirassiers came by way of the quays to the Place de Greve. They 
weie driven into the court of the Hotel de Ville, and their cartridges, 
which they had refused to use, were distributed among the soldiers 
of the guard. — A detachment of Swiss had been sent from the 
Tuileries to the succor of the Hotel de Ville; they entered the Place 
de Greve on the double quick. A barricade was occupied by the 
populace. The Swiss sustained the attack with vigor, the guard 









Cc S^ 





O 


c^ 


a- 


o 


«> 


r 


;=; 


Cr 


!0 




r 


w- 


H 


K 





o 5^ 

f-i- 

tr 







6Q BYAYAYS OF PARIS 

The " grognards " (veterans of the Empire) were 
directing the conflict, the cross of the Legion of 
Honor fastened to a leather apron. " Fire upon the 
leaders and the horses, young fellows, the devil take 
the others ! " Cries arose from the thick of the 
fio-ht, "Down with Charles X!" "Down with Po- 
lignac ! " " Down with the ordinances ! " " Long 
live the Charter ! " For that matter nearly all the 
combatants were absolutely ignorant of the meaning 
of the Charter and what the ordinances were about ! 

Every one knows the rest, — the barricades, the 
wounded, the dead carried on biers by torchlight by 
insurgents crying " Vengeance !" the royal postmen 
disarmed, three hundred men camped in the court of 
the Tuileries, the city bristling with barricades, the 
smell of powder everywhere, a war-fever taking pos- 
session of the whole population, the discharge of 
cannon, the call of the tocsin ! La Fayette, the old 
hero of 1789, — he whom the irreverent nicknamed 
" Gilles-Cesar," sitting at the Hotel de Ville, adored 
like an idol ; the emotion of Paris on seeing — 
at last ! — the tricolor floating above the towers 
of Notre-Dame ; unknown and well-dressed " mes- 
sieurs " distributing pistols and charges of powder 
in the streets ; the " old men of yesterday " dream- 
ing of the advent of Napoleon II, the Eaglet ! the 
Dauphin, flustered and furious, cutting his fingers by 
snatching Marshal Marmont's sword from him, the 

arrived to support them, and already the Parisians were giving way, 
when a young man advanced to encourage them, waving a tricolored 
flag at the end of a lance, and crying, "Let me show you how to 
die! " He fell, pierced with balls, not more than ten paces from the 
guard. — Histoire de dix ans, 1830-1840, by Louis Blanc, t. I, p. 217. 




Arcade Saint-Jean, rue Monceau-Saint-Gervais 



68 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

Hotel Laffitte become "the hostelry of the Revolution 
— people hastening thither from all parts of Paris. 
Not a man of intrigue but came there to relate his 
services " — the departure of Charles X, of the 
Duchess of Berri and the children of France escorted 
by the body-guard, the general lieutenancy of the 



The Hotel de Ville during the Revolution of 1830 

realm offered to the Duke of Orleans, the prince's 
hesitations, the entreaties of the deputies, the popu- 
lace crying, " Long live the Duke of Orleans ! " ^ The 

^ The deputies who came from the Palais-Royal to bring their 
homage to the Duke of Orleans with the proclamation which they 
addressed to the French people are as much moved as the prince 
himself; he draws them after him, they form his guard and escort 
him to the Greve. They conduct him through the crowd, who, 
seeing him pass through their midst, put aside the barricades to let 
him pass, and begin to cry, "Long live the Duke of Orleans! " and 
to grasp the hand of the citizen prince. 

The acclamations of the crowd announce the arrival of the pro- 







u ^^ 



■^ a^*:^ 

o*-:.^!^^ 



6 



r^ 



^^ 6,5 



c?. 



-.il^V^VSivKW _' (vx^^'i^^.u^vVNi _~ 




B DciiuJtftle ia-Oi^r'tlefaitpixr. 
C' ihlvjinedeaabtn/oigd^hndfi 
■jj -Jt£aatie/->arDh~tiM'.Qwa2f& 
JE ..AHa^Tz-e. desSzasses. 
? DerffTijbe de fa coioymje desc 

^ pe.ivtzms^drxdJSsears&'^'f' 

' M5 . X^^' pc.irdtruA- des 'Z eaju 
say' oeplan Trard&s.2^°'' 



Part of a Plan of the Place de Greve and the Hotel de Ville in 1830 
Collections of the Carnavalet Museum. {Portfolios of topography) 



70 



BYWAYS OF PARIS 



Duke, amid plaudits and cries of joy, finally consent- 
ing to take his way to the Place de Greve, — that 
Place de Greve where for three days past each house 
has been a fortress, — going thither to ask the sanc- 
tion of the Hotel de Ville upon the new dynasty ; and 




Popular Picture of 1789 

La Fayette, in the name of the people, publicly giving 
the accolade to the new " Citizen-King.^'-^ 



cession: the municipal commission, La Fayette and his staff, go out 
to meet him on the portico of the Hotel de Ville and open the doors 
to him. The prince ascends the grand staircase leaning on the arm 
of the general-in-chief. In the hall of Henri IV they come to a 
stand. The proclamation of the deputies who are founding a nation 
and promising new guaranties of the old liberties of the country 
is solemnly read again. Louis Philippe, his hand on his heart, 
confirms the promises of this declaration. — Dulaure, Histoire 
de la Revolution de 1830. — Ch. Simond, Paris de 1800 a 1900, 
t. II, p. 21. 



CITY HALL AND THE PLACE DE GREVE 71 

It is the final episode of the triumphant revolution 
represented by our relief plan. Louis Philippe takes 
possession of the crown of France in the ancient 
Communal House, the Hotel de Ville of Paris, still 
spotted with the balls of the 10th Thermidor, and 
where the tragic room is still almost intact, the " green 
cabinet," in which Robespierre's jaw was fractured 
by the ball of Meda, where Saint-Just was arrested, 
where Lebas killed himself. Outside of this " green 
cabinet " passed the projecting cornice upon which, on 
the night of the 9th Thermidor, Augustin Robespierre, 
brother of the Incorruptible, ventured himself, shoes 
in hand, in the endeavor to flee, while the troops of 
the Convention were invading the square. Here is 
the cornice, — it runs all along the first story ; here 
is where the wretched man dragged himself along, 
hesitating and trembling. Beneath his naked feet the 
victors with fixed bayonets were crowding, shouting 
victory ; the Place de Greve was still lighted by the 
expiring flames of the grease-cups which the concierge 
Bochard had lighted by order of the Commune.^ 

^ Positive Declaration of Michel Bochard, concierge of the Com- 
munal House, from the 9th to the 10th Thermidor. 

Toward seven o'clock in the evening the mayor ordered me to 
ring the tocsin at once. I refused point blank to ring it. Then 
Charlemagne and almost the whole Council called me a rascal, 
passed an order and openly forced me to do it. 

I gave up the key and the tocsin was rung. At ten o'clock I was 
ordered to put grease-cups in place to light the square. 

Finally, about two o'clock in the morning, a gendarme called me 
and said he had just heard a pistol shot in the Hall of Equality. 
I went in, and saw Lebas lying on the floor. Immediately the elder 
Robespierre fired a pistol; the ball missing its aim, came within 
three lines of me; I came near being killed, since Robespierre fell 
upon me in the passage when quitting the Hall of Equality. Legrand, 
substitute National Agent, confided his portfolio and his watch to 



72 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

The younger Robespierre then understood that all 
was lost for his brother and himself. He desired to 
die, and threw himself, head first, upon the entrance 
steps of the Hotel de Ville. He succeeded only in 
mutilating himself horribly, wounding in his fall two 
of the invaders, of whom one, " the before-named 
Chabru," was nearly crushed ! -^ 

me to carry to his wife, but I carried them to the Committee of 
oversight of the section of the Communal House. 

This 17 Therm idor, year II of the RepubUc. 

Certified as true. Signed: Bochard. 

Report upon the events of the 9th Thermidor, Year II, by CouRTors, 
Justificative documents. No. XXXVI. 

1 Dulac, employee of the Committee of Public Safety, to the people's 
representative Courtois, member of the Committee of General Safety. 

Without calculating number nor observing order, after having 

called to me those who do not fear these and who desired to 

attack, I flew to the door, which we forced without difficulty, and 
I may here say, by reason of the vivacity with which I had mounted 
the staircase, I entered the hall of meetings alone, and found there 
thirty-six municipals in their sashes. He who performed the func- 
tions of president, named Charlemagne, held the bell rope — it 
fell from his hands when I ran upon him with drawn sword, swear- 
ing, and saying that he was outside the law. No one tried to defend 
himself, and, strangely enough, we were so few in number that 
nearly all of us held two apiece. For that reason I called out to 
cut down the first one who should take off his scarf. No one dared 
to do so — they were paralyzed with fear, and so were the tribunes, 
whom I put under arrest, with two men at each staircase. 

Reinforcements now came, and as soon as I was informed by a cer- 
tain Delacour, who was performing the functions of a national agent, 
of the probable whereabouts of the elder Robespierre (for I already 
knew that the other had thrown himself from the window), I flew 
thither at once. In fact I found him stretched out near a table, 
having received a pistol shot which entered about an inch and a 
half below the lower lip, and went out under the left cheek bone. 
You must observe, for the honor of truth, that it was I who saw 
him first, and that it is therefore not true that the gendarme who 
had been presented to the Convention by Leonard Bourdon blew 
out his brains, as he has come to boast, and those of Couthon also, 
who was not even touched: it is necessary to make a point of this. 

Near to Robespierre under the table was hidden the too famous 



> 






H 




is 


> 


r' 


^ 

^ 


O 




1^ 


W 


^ 


'2 


d 


L 


r 


►D 


2 


„ 


O 




-^ 


:^ 


1 




H 




r 


« 


2 


> 


H 


J 


2 


n 


:2 


> 


o 


1 


o 


o 




,-s 


s: 


> 


v; 


ffi 


i 


>; 


o 


c. 


"^ 


d 




Z 


03 


■T 


r^ 


H 


■^ 


^ 


o 


•i' 


w 


•=5 


H! 










M 


"1 


> 




74 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

* 

All these stories and many more beside are evoked 
by this precious " relief plan." Therefore the Com- 
mission of Old Paris, as soon as it became aware of 
the existence of this treasure — until then almost un- 
known — hastened to take steps to have the relic 
included in the historic collections of the Carnavalet 
Museum. A resolution asking for the gift, the ac- 
quisition, or the exchange, of this admirable document 
was presented in the name of MM. Sardou, Lenotre, 
Detaille, Quentin-Bauchard, H. Lavedan, Guillemet, 
Labusquiere, Charles Normand, A. Hallays, Auge de 
Lassus, Bruman, etc., and the Commission, of which 
the chairman was M. de Selves, Prefect of the Seine, 
unanimously ratified this justifiable desire. The ques- 
tion now was to secure the consent of the Museum of 
the Invalides to the transfer to Carnavalet of this 
precious Place de Greve, — which in no sense belongs 
in the series of " relief plans of places of war," and 
which in some sort belongs by right to the Museum 
of the City of Paris, as an essentially Parisian 
document. 

The thing appeared perfectly natural, but the event 

Dumas, the homicide revolutionary president; I arrested him, and 
so terrified him that I forced him to tell me where were Saint-Just 
and Lebas. I went in there and found Lebas on the floor, already 
dead. Saint-Just made not the least resistance, and gave up his 
knife with the same obedience with which Dumas had handed me 
his bottle of eau de melisse des Carmes (balm essence) which I had 
taken from him, fearing it might be poison. 

Health and fraternity. Long live the National Convention! 

Signed: Dulac. 
Report upon the events of the 9th Thermidor, year II, by Courtois. 
Justificative documents. No. XXXIX. 



CITY HALI, AND THE PLACE DE GREVE 75 

gave the lie to our hopes. Years of negotiations, dis- 
cussions, efforts proved to be necessary, even to the 
nomination of the eminent and conciliating General 
Mix to the direction of the Army Museum, before 
this affair which had seemed so simple could be 
brought to a conclusion satisfactory to all parties. 

At present, by means of exchanges, the relief plan 
of the Place de Greve and the Hotel de Ville as they 
were on July 31, 1830, belongs to the Carnavalet 
Museum, and as good fortunes seldom come singly, 
our Museum has also obtained that of the " Boulevard 
du Temple at the time of the Fieschi outrage " (July 
28, 1835) and the " Death of the Duke of Orleans " 
(July 13, 1842), two other precious Parisian docu- 
ments, also due to the talent of Foulley. These three 
fine works are reckoned among the most interesting 
attractions of halls which are soon to be opened to 
the public. 

These halls, including the Annex, which is being 
completed by M. Foucault, the very remarkable archi- 
tect of the Museums of the City of Paris, will be 
completed, it is hoped, in a few months. Then we 
shall at last have the pleasure of bringing to the 
light certain riches which lack of space has for years 
constrained us to keep shut away in our reserves. 
Then, we believe, we shall have fine surprises to offer 
to those Parisians who are devotedly attached to the 
relics of their Paris ; but among these relics none will 
be more impressive than this evocation of the Place 
de Greve and the " City House " — the place perhaps 
where in all ages the heart of our beloved City has 
beat the strongest ! 



THE 'MUSEUM OF THE ARTS'' 

IN THE SORBONNE 

An the fifth of April, 1802, the First Consul, Bona- 
^^ parte, having decided upon the completion of the 
Louvre, the greater number of those persons who for 
so many years had taken possession of the old palace 
of the Kings of France, painters, engravers, sculptors, 
writers, geographers, armorers, etc., were obliged to 
seek elsewhere shelter for themselves and their fami- 
lies. Some found asylum in the College des Grassins, 
in the Hotel Vaucanson, at the Jacobins ; the greater 
number took refuge in the College Mazarin and at the 
Sorbonne, which had been put at the disposal of the 
Minister of the Interior, that he might " there lodge 
men of letters and those artists who had not been 
replaced in the College Mazarin." ^ 

A credit of 10,000 francs w^as opened for the 
architect Moreau, who was charged to supervise the 
work of reparation and restoration ; nine months 
later " fifty-three lodgings, of which twenty for 
scholars, twenty-one for painters, and twelve for 
sculptors, with four great studios for painting and 
six for sculpture," had been arranged ! Architect 
Moreau deserves all praise, for the business ap- 

^ O. Greard, La Nouvelle Sorbonne, p. 203. 



78 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

pears to have been peculiarly difficult. Judge for 
yourselves : ^ 

Closed by the Revolution on October 17, 1791, 
the Sorbonne, that ancient and illustrious home of 
" Hereditary Discipline," ^ of which Cardinal Riche- 



1 National Archives, F^^ 1247: 

Report presented to the Minister of the Interior concerning the 
former Church of the Sorbonne and the plan adopted by the Minister 
to make the remains of the edifice into a hall for the distribution 
of prizes to the Prytaneans of the Central Schools and of all scien- 
tific and literary Schools. (27 Ventose, year VIII of the French 
Republic.) 

Ministry of the Interior. Of the 19th Brumaire, year X. 

The Minister of the Interior, in view of the decrees of the Consuls 
of the Republic, ordaining that the buildings of the Sorbonne shall 
be converted into lodgings for artists and men of letters displaced 
from the Louvre, charges Citizen Moreau, architect, with the direc- 
tion of the works to be done on this account, according to the 
plans which have been or will be adopted. 

The Minister of the Interior. 

Citizen Moreau is authorized to use to the amount of 10,000 francs 
for the reconstruction of the buildings of the former Sorbonne. (25 
Vendemiaire, year X.) 

Moreau to the Minister: "After long effort, I have succeeded in 
forming 53 lodgings, of which 20 for scholars, 21 for painters, and 
12 for sculptors, with 4 large studios for painting and 6 for statuary 
sculpture." Moreau. (15 Nivose, year X.) 

The number of artists to be lodged in the Sorbonne being fewer 
than those which had been asked for, Moreau proposes to the Min- 
ister an estimate of 5,644 fr. 33, which is adopted. (8 Germinal, 
year X.) 

2 Robert de Sorbonne, chaplain of Saint Louis, had about 1252 
acquired, or exchanged with the king, certain houses in the rue de 
Coupe-gueule (Cut-throat) and the neighboring street. 

Saint Louis permitted Robert to close both ends of the street; 
upon this land the latter built a college and a chapel; later he ac- 
quired the remainder of the land as far as the rue des Poirees, and 
in 1271 built upon it the Calvi College, or the Little Sorbonne. 

Cardinal Richelieu, who had studied theology there, rebuilt the 
college in 1627, and himself laid the cornerstone of the church. May 
15, 1635. — Jaillot, Recherches sur Paris, t. V, p. 141. 



THE ' MUSEUM OF THE ARTS 



79 



lieu had made the sumptuous Palace of Theology, 
was summarily suppressed on April 5, 1792, the 
new regime not being able to forgive either its " in- 
tolerance " or its " aloofness from the national life." 
Occupants and associates, having refused to take the 




The Court of the Sorbonne about 1845 

" civic oath," were served with notice to quit, and the 
vast buildings remained empty. 

In 1792 the Sorbonne, put up at auction, was 
leased, " part to Citizen Bachelart, who cut it up 
into some sixty small lodgings, part to Citizen Chalier, 
who held Section meetings there." The furniture, 
the books, the busts, the " armorial bearings," had 



80 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

of course been dispersed " in storehouses wherever 
room could be found." ^ 

The ruin was soon complete ; grass " enough to 
cut " grew between the paving stones of the great 
court and in the enclosed walk. One night there 
was a great crash — a part of the dome had fallen 
in. The street urchins of the neighborhood came 
in through the broken windows to work mischief in 
the deserted amphitheatres ; sneak thieves found 
their way in, stealing the leads from the roofs and 
the marbles from the chapels. An architect who was 
consulted proffered the admirable advice, " Demolish 
all that remains standing ! " and this truly profes- 
sional crime would have been committed if " the bad 
condition of the columns supporting the dome had 
not made such an operation dangerous for the 
workingmen." ^ 

How could these ruins be utilized? In 1796 it 
was proposed to establish a " chalcographie " there ; 
the plan was soon abandoned because of the heavy 
expense. The insane idea was brought forward of 
converting the Sorbonne into a " depository in 
favor of the dead of the Commune of Paris." "^ 
Finally, on March 18, 1800, the architect Peyre 
offered to divide the church transversely into two 
great halls — " the lower hall would serve for lec- 
tures and distributions of prizes " ; the upper one, 
" already decorated with fine frescoes by Philippe 
de Champaigne, should be used * as a museum for 

1 National Archives, F 7, 7223. 

2 National Archives, F ^^, 1248, No. 58. 
^ National Archives, F ^, 871. 

^ National Archives, F ^^ 871. 



THE " MUSEUM OF THE ARTS " 81 

expositions of painting and engraving." Lucien 
Bonaparte, Minister of the Interior, accepted the 
proposition; funds were voted, but being insufficient 
for the purpose merely served to arrest the progress 
of destruction. It was then that artists invaded 
the " Museum of Arts " (the new name given to the 
Sorbonne), where the architect Moreau, as has 
already been said, made arrangements for them as 
well as he could, but rather ill than well. 

From 1802 to 1821 this Museum of Arts sheltered 
successively more than a hundred families of sculp- 
tors, painters, engravers, — most of them former 
" prix de Rome." The lodgings were capable of 
accommodating some half hundred tenants at a 
time. Here in turn lived Pajou, the elder Ramey, 
Meynier, Lordon, Demarne, Lesueur, Hittorf, Ro- 
land, Vandael, the sculptor Marin, the good Boilly, 
Cartellier, the great Prudhon. As a rule three 
chamhres de maUre and three " service rooms " 
were allotted to each occupant, but many were 
forced to content themselves with a modest shed, a 
garret " lighted by an oeil de hceuf,''^ a dark studio 
" where one cannot work more than two hours be- 
cause of the shadow cast by the opposite houses." 
In 1813 Petit, a landscapist of reputation, befriended 
by General Canclaux, had, by way of lodging and 
studio both, only a small panelled chamber, " where 
it was impossible to stretch a canvas." ^ 

The " good " lodgings were either at the farther 
end of the court opposite the chapel, or else opened 
upon the rue de la Sorbonne. Nine studios had been 

1 National Archives, F ^^ 1248. 



82 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

taken from a part of the church, divided transversely 
by a flooring; there was one in each chapel, two 
in the upper halves of the central chapels, one under 
the dome. MM. Cartelier, Esparcieux, Roland, 
Lordat, statuaries, occupied these studios, and also 
M. Vandael, a flower painter, who in addition pos- 
sessed behind the apse of the chapel " a garden laid 
out in the Dutch manner, into which he might go 
on the level to paint from nature flowers and foliage 
on their stems in the broad sunlight or after the 
refreshment of the rain." ^ And the lucky Vandael 
was obliged to protect by a thorn hedge his " Dutch 
garden " against the covetousness of his neighbors 
and the maraudings of the street urchins of the 
neighborhood. 

The statuary Roland had taken up his quarters 
in the lateral chapel called Richelieu's, where the 
minister had been buried, and where his funeral 
monument, chef-d^wuvre of Girardon, was erected. 
In this studio Roland was surprised by death in 
1816, just when he was beginning the execution of 
his statue of the great Conde. David d'Angers, a 
pupil of Roland, had just returned from Rome, in 
the heyday of youth and dreaming of glory. He 
occupied mean lodgings in the neighborhood of the 
Sorbonne, and his fever for work was such that 
he used to sleep " upon a sculptured door, in order 
not to sleep too long."^ It was he who had the honor 

* O. Greard, La Nouvelle Sorbonne, p. 267. 

2 "In 1815 or 1816 my father, returning from Rome, had a studio 
in the neighborhood of the Sorbonne. He used to sleep on a carved 
door in order not to sleep too long." Extract from a letter of M. 
Robert David d'Angers, February 17, 1909 (George Cain collection). 



THE MUSEUM OF THE ARTS 83 

of completing, in this chapel of the Sorbonne, the 
statue which had been blocked out by his dying 
former master, and this first attempt was successful. 
It was at the Sorbonne that David d' Angers was 
born to celebrity. 

It is needless to add that falsehood, jealousy, 
gossip, flourished in this artistic beehive. There 
were bitter quarrels over choked gutters, over gar- 
bage thrown out of window, over rugs too vigor- 
ously shaken, envyings over an unused " lumber 
room." ^ 

Nevertheless, between storms these worthy artists 
were wont to arrange little festivals, family hops, 
representations of " Proverbs," concerts." In winter 

^ August 3, 1815. Petition drawn up and signed by some thirty 
artists lodging at the "Museum of Artists," asking the Minister of 
the Interior to forbid the inhabitants of the rues de Ckmi, des Cor- 
diers, and des Poirees to open and enlarge in the party wall giving 
upon the interior court of the Sorbonne, windows which formerly 
were merely simple apertures for light furnished with bars and iron 
network, which now form straight and direct windows, open every 
day, and out of which the inhabitants throw their garbage, often 
letting fire fall out when lighting their stoves on the sills, hanging 
out their linen to dry either on ropes or on frames extending out 
upon the Sorbonne and communicating by the attic stairs to the 
mansards occupied by the artists. 

Signed: Du Tertre, Bote, Holland, Beau- 

VALLET, KnIP, RaMEY, StOUF, 
MlLBEET, CaRTELLIER, PaJOU, 

DuMONT, Meynier, ctc, etc. 
Pi^ 1248 (National Archives). 

^ I have discovered a few programs of these concerts written by 
hand on thick drawing paper, in finished calligraphy. Here is one 
of these documents : 

First Part. — 1. Concerto for the piano, Dussek, executed by 
Mile. L. Dumont. 

2. Air from Jean de Paris, Boieldieu, sung by M. C. 

3. Air with variations for the violin, M. Baillot, executed by M. N. 



84 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

there were dances in Lordon's studio, at Dumont's 
or Pajou's; Jacques Edme would play on his vio- 
lin the fashionable quadrille, " The Little Milk- 
maid." The ladies " would dress in white muslin or 
gray gowns drawn up by a small green cord, their 
necks bare, a la vierge, and upon their hair they 
would wear a little wreath of flowers, a V antique .''^ ^ 

The illumination was modest, and the refreshments 
consisted of glasses of currant wine and orgeat 
gallantly offered by the cavaliers . . . but the ladies, 
young, pretty, graceful, and attractive, had the 
honor of bearing the names of artists justly re- 
vered; the young men were intelligent and light- 
hearted. These delightful young people illuminated 
for a moment with their effervescent gayety the gray 
old stones of the " Museum of Arts." At midnight 
all lights were extinguished, and the antique build- 
ing returned to silence and shadow. 

4. Air from Semiramis, Catel, sung by Mile. Dubois. 

5. Concerto for flute, Berbiguier, executed by M. Farrenc. 
Second Part. — 1. Variations on the guitar by Mile. Camus, 

2. Air from the Day of Adventures, Mehul, sung by M. C. 

3. Potpourri for piano and flute, M. Baze and Berbiguier, executed 
by Mile. L. D. and M. Farrenc. 

4. Romance of Jeannot and Colin, Nicolo, sung by Mile. Dubois. 

5. Fragment of a concerto for the violin, M. Cremoni, executed 
by M. Maussan. 

6. Duet from Francoise de Foix, suDg by Mile. Dubois and M. C. 
G. Vattier, Augustin Dumont, p. 34. 

^ The dancers were Miles. Dumont, Bourgeois, Roland, who 
became Mme. Lucas de Montigny; Lordon, the Misses Castelier, the 
elder afterward married to the statuary Petitot, the younger to the 
painter Heim; Mile. Lesueur; Mile. Trezel, married to Milne Ed- 
wards; Mile. Stouf, who became Mme. Couderc, and the four Misses 
Bosse, of whom the eldest was proud of being named Victory and of 
being born in the month of March. — G. Vattier, Augustin Dumont, 
passim. 



I 



TPIE * MUSEUM OF THE ARTS " 85 

In 1802 the sublime artist Prudhon lived " at the 
end of the court, on the left of the entrance, on the 
second floor, beneath the clock." His studio, lighted 
by one large window, overlooked the gardens on the 
side of the rue Saint-Jacques, but did not communi- 
cate with his apartment.^ The immense talent of 
Prudhon was no longer a matter of discussion, he 
was at last realizing his youthful ambitions ; yet 
never had the great artist been so unhappy. Prud- 
hon was tortured by being the husband of a wife 
unworthy of him. The poverty of her mind, her low 
tastes, her violent temper, her vulgarities were ago- 
nizing to the gentle Prudhon. His household shrew 
was always exposing herself in the most violent and 
ridiculous manner; she would run through the cor- 
ridors, invade the studios of her husband's fellow 
artists uttering complaints and invectives. Even 
before this, when Prudhon had lodgings in the 
Louvre, two of his neighbors, Girodet and Meynier, 
had moved to the Capucines (near the Place Ven- 

^ Report presented to the Minister of the Interior (18 Messidor, 
year X) : 

Citizen Prudhon, painter, represents that to accommodate his 
family in the lodging given him in the Musee des Artistes it is in- 
dispensable to remove and carry back for two feet a partition which 
now forms an unnecessary closet. This operation will give to Citizen 
Prudhon facilities for making a sleeping room for the children 
whom he cannot keep at home if he is deprived of the advantage 
which he solicits. He asks that this work may be done at the ex- 
pense of government. Citizen Moreau, consulted as to this request, 
asserts that the expense of these alterations will not exceed 150 francs. 
He adds that the Minister might well undertake it, especially for 
a head of a family so commendable by his talents as Citizen Prudhon. 

It is proposed at the Ministry to authorize Citizen Moreau to 
make the desired changes in the lodging of Prudhon. 

The head of division 3 of the Beaux- Arts. 
(Signature illegible.) 



86 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

dome), put to rout by the incessant clamor of this 
vixen ! 

Prudhon was even reduced to the necessity of flee- 
ing from his studio. Escaping like a criminal, he 
would go to draw a long breath among his friends. 
Reaching at last the limit of his powers, he resolved 
upon a legal separation ; nevertheless the scenes con- 
tinued, and in desperation Prudhon was driven to 
ask help and assistance from Denon, Director of 
Museums. " It is torture to my delicacy," wrote the 
unhappy artist on September 30, 1803, " to bring 
before you things so revolting that they make me 
blush ; I am both outraged and humiliated when I 
speak of a woman who, having neither pride nor 
self-respect, has no fear of revealing the baseness of 
her soul by atrocious, disgusting, and scandalous 
scenes which she unceasingly brings upon me by 
infamous remarks about all the people around us 
and by her insupportable manners toward every one. 
But for the unusual consideration which my fellow 
artists feel for me, they would have brought com- 
plaint against her to the Ministry of the Interior, 
as the only means of ridding themselves of one whose 
inveterate ill temper daily inflicts upon them all sorts 
of discomfort and distress. . . In view of this, you 
must feel how insupportable and scandalous is the 
presence of such a woman in a place like the 
Sorbonne. 

" The government which values the Arts lodges 
the Talents. In the abode which it accords them it 
is essential to order and tranquillity that there shall 
be a police service having power to exclude any one 



TPIE " MUSEUM OF THE ARTS " 87 

who may dare to disturb them. My wife is such an 



one." 



Nothing was done ; this frightful torture lasted 
several years longer, and ceased only on the day 
when Madame Prudhon, who had been admitted to 
the audience of the Empress, made so scandalous 
a scene in her Majesty's presence that it became 
necessary to confine her in a sanatorium which was 
under police surveillance. It was at this moment 
of moral distress that the gentle hand of a woman 
was reached out to soothe the bleeding wounds in 
Prudhon's broken heart. 

The unhappy artist went on living in the Sor- 
bonne, sad and lonely, until the day when, upon the 
reiterated entreaties of a friend, he consented to give 
lessons to Mile. C. Mayer, a pupil of Greuze, whom 
that painter's death had left without a master. 
During sixteen years Mile. Mayer brightened the 
life of Prudhon. 

A study of this adored friend now makes a part 
of the Groult collection, where we were admiring her 
only yesterday. 

How seductive she is, this lovely, plain woman ! 
The nose is too large, the mouth too wide, the cheek 
bones appear to be too far apart — but what in- 
telligence in this expressive head ! A quantity of 
brown curls lightly shade the bulging forehead, and 
give their full value to the voluptuous, ardent, tender 
eyes. How easily one can understand, before this 
touching sketch, rapturously caught in an hour of 
loving inspiration, the profound affection which the 
sad-hearted old master must have felt for this gentle, 



88 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

smiling woman, whose long pale hands had soothed 
his wounds, whose softened glance spoke silent, ad- 
miring love. 

The tender heart of the gentle Prudhon yielded 
itself without reserve ; for nearly twenty years the 
great artist was happy. The connection seemed to 
bring him good fortune. In 1808 the Emperor 
Napoleon decorates him in the presence of his pic- 
ture, "Divine Vengeance pursuing Crime"; he has 
the honor of painting the Empress Josephine in the 
cool gardens of Malmaison ; his works are greatly 
sought after. M. de Talleyrand poses to him in his 
studio in the Sorbonne ; the Institute opens its doors 
to him, — it is too beautiful to last ! 

The years had not spared Mile. Mayer; she began 
to feel herself aging; she became "melancholy" — ■ 
so neurasthenia was called under Louis XVIII ; her 
state of health became justly disquieting, her little 
fortune had disappeared. The morning of May 26, 
1821, feeling even more ill than usual, Mile. Mayer 
sent for Dr. Brale, her physician, who found her 
with " haggard eyes and frightfully drawn brow." 
The doctor gone. Mile. Mayer, notwithstanding her 
weakness, went up to Prudhon's studio, and sat down 
in her usual place before her easel, a few steps be- 
hind the master. A letter was brought bearing the 
postmark Toul, where Mme. Prudhon was wasting 
away in the house of her son Epaminondas. The 
letter contained the gravest news, foreboding her 
approaching end. There was a long agonized silence, 
then Mile. Mayer put the question, " Prudhon, would 
you marry again if you became a widower .^^ " 




■■,^hmMfi^ m^^*^,,^»mm»mm mSm^m>^^mm-»m •00» »f* ^ 




Mlle. Constance Mayer (A Study by Prudhon) 



90 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

Without considering how much his answer con- 
tained of sorrow, injustice, and pain for the tender 
heart of his friend, Prudhon, absorbed in the memory 
of the conjugal road to the cross which he had trav- 
ersed, could not refrain from replying with a gesture 
of horror, "Oh, that — never!" Silent, dejected, 
bewildered. Mile. Mayer passed into the adjoining 
closet, where Prudhon was in the habit of dressing; 
opened a drawer, took out a razor, crossed the court 
of the Sorbonne, went up to her own apartment, sat 
down before the glass in her little parlor, and cut 
her throat with two strokes of the razor, " the second 
of which," said the report of Police commissary 
Monyer, " penetrated to the cervical vertebra." ^ 

Prudhon, suspecting nothing of the swift and hor- 
rible drama, dressed himself to go to the Institute. 

1 Extract from the act of death of Mile. Mayer: 

"In the year 1821, the 27th day of the month of May, at half 
past ten in the morning, appeared before us M. Pierre-FeHx Trezel, 
historical painter, aged 38 years, hving in Paris, street and house 
of the Sorbonne No. 11, and M. Pierre-Gerome Lordon, historical 
painter, aged 41 years, living in the same street and house, neighbors 
of the defunct, who declared to us that on the 26th of this month, at 
two o'clock in the afternoon. Mile. Marie-Frangoise-Constance Mayer 
La Martiniere, historical painter, aged 46 years, native of Paris 
and living in the above-named street and house and^tjuarter of the 
Sorbonne, deceased unmarried in the said dwelling. 

Signed: F. Trezel, Lordon." 

An official report drawn up by Jean-Frangois Monyer, police 
commissary, in presence of M. Cloquet, physician, states: "The 
demoiselle Mayer (Constance) was in the apartment of M. Prudhon, 
artist painter, where she had some of her effects. Mile. Sophie 
Duprat, pupil in painting of the defunct, had quitted her about 11 
o'clock, leaving her alone in the apartment . . . dealt herself two 
strokes of the razor, the last of which penetrated to the cervical verte- 
bra. She must have died instantly. She had placed herself before 
a mirror before giving herself the second stroke, and fell upon her 
back, her feet toward the door of communication." 



THE MUSEUM OF THE ARTS " 91 

He went down, saw frightened faces, heard cries, 
sobs. Rushing in, he fell upon the blood-stained 
body of Mile. Mayer. It was necessary to use force 
to part him from the corpse, which he clasped 
convulsively. 

Determinedly solitary, morose, calling for death 
as for deliverance, having " neither the patience to 
live nor the strength to suffer," Prudhon withdrew 
to the solitude of No. 34 rue du Rocher. It was 
at that time an absolutely uninhabited quarter. 
There the unhappy master lived two years a recluse 
in his studio, completing the pictures which Mile. 
Mayer had begun, wandering along the exterior 
boulevards, avoiding Paris, going out only to carry 
flowers to " his " dead, on the upper heights of 
Pere-Lachaise. 

The 16th of February, 1823, this great artist 
ceased to suffer. 



THE STREET OF THE LADIES' 
TOWER 

THE NEW ATHENS.— THE HOUSE OF TALMA 

npHE rue de la Tour-des-Dames is not what is con- 
-*- ventionally called a thoroughfare ; it begins at 
rue Blanche opposite the Church of the Trinity, 
and by a rapid descent enters the rue de La Roche- 
foucauld. No shops, not an autobus, few carriages ; 
a discreet, silent, aging street. A tablet affixed to 
the wall of an attractive private house. No. 9, in- 
forms the few passers-by that the illustrious tragedian 
Talma died there on October 19, 1826. At the first 
blush this seems surprising, this almost provincial- 
looking street seeming destined rather to shelter re- 
ligious communities than to afford abodes for actors ; 
but reflection brings to mind that in the last century 
a great number of artists — writers, painters, actors, 
musicians, sculptors — chose this quiet, cheerful, ver- 
dant corner of Paris for their abode, enlivened as it 
was with gardens parcelled out from ancient gardens 
of religious communities dissolved by the Revolution, 
from the law^ns and gardens around the " follies " of 
the eighteenth century, or from the fields and market 
gardens which had been sold as national property. 

In former days the major portion of the quarter 
formed a part of the enormous abbatial domain of 
Montmartre, which for this region alone included 



94 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

all that lies between the faubourg Poissonniere, the 
rue de Clichy, and the rue Saint-Lazare. In 1775 
Jaillot wrote : " In the direction of the chateau des 
Porcherons (now the square of la Trinite, the church 
standing upon the site of the ancient chateau of 
Le Coq, bishop of Laon, friend of Etienne Marcel; 
the impasse du Coq is a reminder of that long-past 
epoch) may be seen the ruins of the mill of la Tour- 
des-Dames transformed into a pigeon-cote, and mark- 
ing the boundary of the properties of the Abbey of 
Montmartre." The street begins at the site of this 
pigeon-cote, the terror and torment of the neighbor- 
ing market-gardeners who had to witness the destruc- 
tion of their green peas and string beans by the 
thieving pigeons of the Abbesses of Montmartre ; 
this explains why the destruction of " privileged " 
pigeon-cotes was one of the first achievements of the 
triumphant Revolution. 

This mill of la Tour-des-Dames figures upon the 
plans of the censive (rent-rolls) of 1383; it then 
brought in " 6 livres of income "; by 1594 the rent 
had increased ; it had reached " 48 livres, with the 
obligation to grind all the wheat required for the 
sustenance of the nuns and their domestics." ^ In 

1 . . . The mill was very ancient, for we find it figuring upon 
a list of properties of the abbey drawn up on February 11, 1383, 
where it is mentioned as situated behind a small hotel named on the 
rent-rolls of Saint-Opportune, in the place called the "Marais under 
Montmartre," and bringing in 6 livres of rent (Cartulary of Mont- 
martre, published by M. E. de Barthelemy, p. 200); furthermore it 
is indicated in a register of the distrainers (for rent) of Saint-Germain- 
I'Auxerrois in 1494. — Jaillot, Recherches sur Paris, t. II, p. 19. 

This was assuredly the mill included in the lease which Cath- 
erine Havart, abbess of Montmartre from 1594 to 1598, executed 
with Martin Levignard, miller, living in the parish of Saint-Laurent, 



THE STREET OF THE LADIES' TOWER 95 

1717 the mill was no longer in use, the site had been 
confirmed to a dealer in horses, and in 1763 the 
property " called la Tour-des-Dames " was leased for 
150 livres a year to a M. de Saint-Germain. In 1822 




Francois J. Talma 

the last remnants of " the Ladies' Tower " were de- 
molished : in the thickness of the walls was discovered 



the terms being that he should keep the said mill in good repair, 
pay to the abbey 48 livres each year, and grind all the wheat neces- 
sary for the sustenance of the nuns and their domestics. The act 
was witnessed by Jean Chappelain and Pierre Leroux, notaries at 
the Chatelet of Paris. (Cheronnet, Histoire de Montmartre, 
p. 123.) 



96 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

a small store of wine which had been bottled in the 
time of Henri IV. Oh, disappointment ! The wine 
was no longer drinkable.^ 

The street follows the ancient boundary of the 
abbatial domain of the nuns of Montmartre. The 
situation could not but attract such artists as were 
lovers of light, verdure^, quiet ; the " New Athens " 

— such became the pleasant surname of the quarter 

— was rapidly peopled, and thus in a few years 
(1820-1870) the rue de la Tour-des-Dames came 
to shelter more than one illustrious tenant. Mile. 
Mars (of the Theatre-Fran^ais) occupied No. 1, 
Mile. Duchesnois No. 3, the studios of Horace Vernet 
and his son-in-law Paul Delaroche were Nos. 7 and 
5, whither Charles Vernet came in 1835 to die; the 
great Talma lodged at No. 9,^ Grisier, the fencing- 
master who so ably staged the epic combats imagined 
by the worthy Alexander Dumas, the duels of d'Ar- 
tagnan, of Bussy d'Amboise, of Chicot, drilled his 
pupils in No. 12. 

In the neighboring streets, rue La Rochefoucauld, 
rue Blanche, rue de Douai, rue Pigalle, cite Frochot, 
lived, at one time or another during this period, Ber- 
lioz, Charles Gounod, Victor Masse, Felicien David, 
Gustave Moreau, Gavarni, Degas, J. L. Brown, Isa- 
bey, Philippe Rousseau, Charles Jacques, Cabanel, 
Franceschi, Gerome, Reyer, Bizet, Manet, Auber, 
Eugene Scribe. Beautiful women, friends, pupils, or 
models of all these artists, besprinkled the " New 



^ Lefeuve, t. II, pp. 501, 502. 

2 Talma was born in the rue des Menetriers, Paris, January 15, 
1766. 




Extract from the Road Plan of the City of Paris in 1839, 
by Charles Picquet 



98 



BYA'TAYS OF PARIS 



Athens," which long retained its charming character 
of intimacy. Every one knew every one else, if only 
by the gossip of the concierges — they interchanged 
remarks, greetings, smiles ; it was as it were a small 
city within a large city, and this lasted until 1870. 
Artists of all ages have felt the imperious need of 




1823 
Talma, as Sylla (Act IV, Scene VIII) 

light and of quiet: painters, writers professional by 
necessity, comedians requiring to be thus recompensed 
for their artificial existence behind the scenes, mal- 
odorous and insufficiently lighted by smoky lamps. In 
our days multiplied means of transportation have 
simplified things ; passages are lighted by electricity ; 
in a few minutes one may easily reach Neuilly, Au- 
teuil, Asnieres, Colombes, la Varenne-Saint-Hilaire, 
Joinville-le-Pont. This was not the case formerly. 



THE STREET OF THE LADIEs' TOWER 99 

Therefore most actors lived in the outskirts of Paris, 
— Belleville, the Pres-Saint-Gervais, Batignolles ; 
those more fortunate found their abode in the " New 
Athens." 



[(M.i-fumc Jff TA L AfA'rJTellfi' P FWFfWUW] 




Talma as Pyrrhus 



When in 1821 Talma went to live in the rue de la 
Tour-des-Dames, he was at the apogee of his glory. 
The times were no longer as when, about 1790, the 
great tragedian betook himself on foot from the rue 



100 BYWAYS OF PAEIS 

de Seine, where he lived, to the Comedie-Fran^aise, 
" his wife on his arm, and his nightcap over his ears 
to preserve him from suppressed perspiration";^ 
at this time Talma held, and justly held, the highest 
place among actors. - 

He was the " French Roscius," a personage in the 
state ; women wore his portrait in cameo. Napoleon, 
who admired him, had not forgotten the promise made 
to the friend of his evil days, " I will have you play 
before a galaxy of kings " ; and the 6th of October, 
1808, at Erfurt, Talma had interpreted the Death 
of Coesar before two emperorsj, three kings, a queen, 
twenty princes, six grand dukes, and the illustrious 
Goethe. In 1822 the King of the Low Countries 
accorded him an income of 10,000 francs, on the sole 
condition that " for six years during the vacations 
accorded him by the Comedie-Fran9aise, he would 
play his principal characters in the Theatre Royal 
of Brussels." There were conflicts at the theatre 
doors on the days when Talma was to appear. Often, 
in our childhood, have my brother and I heard old 
friends of our family, the elder Dumas, Dr. Firmin, 
the Marquis of Saint-Georges, talk of the unfor- 
gettable Talma whom they had known, n^ 

The intelligent Henry Monnier has many a time 
most movingly imitated him for us, in Orestes, in 
Brutus ; has sketched for us the head of Talma as 
Cinna, with the lock of hair lying across his fore- 
head. " The Emperor. . . it was the Emperor ! " he 

^ Charles Maurice, Anecdotic History of the Theatre, 1. 1, p. 24. 

^ Who then was Talma? — HimseK, his century and ancient 
times. — Chateaubriand, Memoires (T outre'tomhe, t. II, p. 274, 
Bire edition. 



THE STREET OF THE EADIES' TOWER 101 

would cry with emotion. He would tell us what 
audacity and tenacity had been shown by the great 
tragedian in overthrowing the antique traditions of 







Que J\omf j-e acc/iirc oil noKf on ta/i//c /luttj-. 
Mniirnnf pour noiuf oe/oi/; ton/ iin- jtv/iA/c/;/ (/t'l/.f 

,/,/■■/'./■, v.- //// 

Talma as Cinna 



former days, which had costumed the heroes of Cor- 
neille, Racine, and Shakespeare like dancers, in 
plumed headdresses, like the supernumeraries in the 
ballets of the Roi-Soleil, or had dressed them like the 



102 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

gilt-bronze troubadours of the clocks of the Restora- 
tion, in a " Polish tunic bordered with fur, close- 
fitting, apricot-colored small clothes, plumed cap 
and tasselled boots." 

Despising these absurd traditions, Talma had ap- 
peared upon the stage wearing the antique toga and 
peplum, or a tunic with an iron girdle, bared arms, 
hair a la Titus, " rebuilding an epoch," electrifying 
the multitude, gentle and simple.^ " He looks like a 
Roman statue," cried Mile. Contat, on seeing him 
appear as Brutus. " It is Garrick arisen from the 
dead," murmured an aged dilettante. A single ob- 
stinate conservative, Vanhove, had protested, heart- 
broken, at having to give up the crimson silk small 
clothes of his costume as Agamemnon. " Fine sort 
of progress ! They don't so much as leave a single 
pocket at the side for the door key ! " 

All these memories were haunting us as we crossed 
the threshold of the historic building whose owners, 
MM. Jouet-Pastre, were kindly doing the honors with 
their usual good grace. 

The general features of the building have been 
preserved, but the necessities of the tenants who 
have succeeded one another since 1826 have modi- 
fied the interior arrangements without altering its 
former aspect. We found here — as in all buildings 
dating from the Directory or the Consulate — small 
rooms, staircases in the walls, innumerable recesses, 
tiny salons recalling that feeling of intimacy so dear 

1 The tunic held in by the iron girdle, a soldier's mantle over his 
shoulder, the arms bare, rebuilding an epoch. — A. Dumas, M6- 
moires, t. IV, p. 73. 



THE STREET OF THE LADIES' TOWER 103 

to our grandparents; on the other hand, the draw- 
ing-room and the dining-room are large and gor- 
geous. Nothing was too fine or too large to receive 
and do honor to friends. Our ancestors properly 
appreciated the caustic aphorism of Brillat-Savarin : 




Talma's Study, 4, rue Saint-Georges 

" To invite any one is to become responsible for his 
happiness during all the time he spends under one's 
roof." 

Here the drawing-room is superb, opening broadly 
upon the fine garden ; beyond, between the trees, 
appears the dome of the Church of the Trinity 
blurred by the blue mists of October. What a pic- 
ture this salon must have been, when Talma was lav- 



104 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

ishing upon those masters of art, those aristocrats 
of intellect who were his guests, all the treasures of 
his welcome, his charm, his luxury. The heroes of 
the Empire, the survivors of the Revolution, have 
conversed together within these four walls ; and noth- 
ing, absolutely nothing, remains of that heroic time ; 
but, on the other hand, in the little room close at 
hand, it is easy to recover living traces of the past. 
This little cabinet with its many mirrors was certainly 
the study in which Talma worked, not only learning 
his lines, but also studying his attitudes, the play 
of his features. Of this we cannot have the slightest 
doubt, for in another lodging of the great artist we 
have met a similar cabinet and similar mirrors. 

Before occupying this vast hotel of la Tour-des- 
Dames, Talma occupied (No. 4, rue Saint-Georges) 
a lodging of the Directory epoch, now the home of 
the Phoenix Insurance Company. The obliging cour- 
tesy of the manager gave us an opportunity to visit 
these charming rooms, almost intact, with their deli- 
cate friezes and entablatures, their sculptured pedi- 
ments, — a feast for the eyes ; here again in a small 
room we found the eight mirrors the height of the 
walls, permitting the tragedian to observe each of 
his own gestures, to modify the slightest fold in his 
costume. 

A frieze runs around the walls of the study-closet 
of the rue de la Tour-des-Dames, framing in a series 
of medallions reproducing portraits of the favorite 
authors of the great actor: Corneille, Voltaire, 
Racine — Nepomucene, Lemercier, Arnault, Luce de 
Lancival — striking group ! 



THE STREET OF THE LADIES ' TOWER 105 

Here, done over and modified, is the room in which 
Talma died. The Comedie-Francaise possesses — the 
gift of its author, Robert Fleury — a reproduction 
of the celebrated picture The Death of Talma, ex- 
hibited in the Salon of 1827. Here Robert Fleury 
painted from nature. Dr. Biet — all whose science 
was inadequate to save Talma from a horrible death 
— sent in haste for Robert Fleury, who painted the 




Painted Frieze in Talma's Study, rue de la TouR-DEs-DAMJi:s 

dying artist's portrait, Avhile Jouy, the author of 
Sylla, Arnault, the author of Marius, in deep afflic- 
tion, watched by the bed of their sublime interpreter 
expiring in a little room crowded with eleven persons. 
At the far end of the room, upon the wall hung with 
green, was Napoleon's silhouette framed in gold ! 

All Paris attended Talma's funeral ; ^ the Theatre- 
Fran9ais was closed : it was truly a national grief. 

^ After the 9th Thermidor, the actor Fusil, who had been accused 
of revolutionary excesses, received from the spectators orders to 
sing the Reveil du Peuple (Awakening of the People). His trembling 
voice prevented his doing so. Talma was called, and charged to 
read the hymn. He did so, Fusil standing beside him and holding / 
the torch which the tragedian's weak sight rendered necessary. — • 
Ch. Maurice, Thedtre-Frangais, p. 155. 



106 



BYWAYS OF PARIS 




The four horses which drew the funeral car could 
hardly make their way through the dense crowd. 

The coffin, 
borne by pu- 
pils of the 
Royal School 
of Declama- 
tion, was more 
than an hour 
in passing 
over the short 
space between 
the gates of 
Pere-Lachaise 
and the grave 
in which it was 
to rest. Upon 
the coffin lay a 
laurel wreath 
and the scar- 
let mantle in 
which Talma 
had played 
one of his fa- 
vorite roles. 
The common 
people greatly 
admired the 




a; 


1 
j 
i 


1 


, 




Paikted Door op Talma's Study, Rue 

DE LA ToUR-DES-DamES 



immense funeral processions, but were much surprised 
that " there were no gendarmes to open the march." ^ 



1 Delescluze, Revue rStrospedive (Unpublished Souvenirs), t. X, 
p. 262. 



THE STREET OF THE LADIES ' TOWER 107 

A single Incident may be noted: at the moment when 
the funeral procession crossed the threshold of the 
cemetery, a strident whistle was heard. Surprise, 
displeasure were expressed — it was the head keeper, 
who, according to custom, thus apprised his subordi- 
nates of the arrival of the funeral ! 

Pursuing our visit, we reach by an inner stairway 
the " very fine dining-room," noted in the leases, 
" decorated with stucco, with paintings, and with a 
pavement of mottled white marble of Italy." ^ ^ 

Thence we pass — on the same floor — into the 
melancholy and charming garden where box, holly, 
spindlewood, and ivy lavish their sombre metallic 
greenery. We call up all these old memories while 
treading under foot the golden leaves which the first 
frosts of autumn have detached from the trees like 
wounded butterflies, and which rustle like crinkled 
silk under our feet. 

The antique statues which stand around like white 
phantoms against the purplish background seem to 
listen to our conversation. They knew these dead of 
whom we are talking, and we would fain question this 
mute marble company with their enigmatical smiles 
which still keep guard over 

"The infinite sweetness of broken things." ^ 

1 The building was sold April 10, 1827, by Talma's widow, "from 
whom he had been judicially separated as to property." Papers 
consulted by the kind authority of MM. Jouet-Pastre, in the rooms 
of M® Leclerc, notary. Place de la Mairie, Charenton. 

2 A. Samain, Le Chariot (Tor (The Roses in the Cup), p. 17. 



PARIS SEEN FROM A BALLOON 

WE had a charming surprise yesterday ; two well- 
known aeronauts, MM. Andre Schelcher and 
A. Omer-Decugis, did us the favor of bringing to the 
Carnavalet Museum a remarkable series of photo- 
graphic documents : Paris seen from a balloon. It 
is a disconcerting Paris, a Paris unsuspected by 
simple mortals, such as can x)nly be seen by the 
pigeons of the Tuileries, the sparrows of our man- 
sards, the crows of the towers of Notre-Dame — and 
by aeronauts ! 

Each in its turn, IMontmartre and the Sacred 
Heart, the Louvre and the Luxembourg, the Cite, — 
immense ship of stone moored in the midst of the 
Seine, — the Place Vendome, looking like a relief plan 
stolen from the collections of the Army Museum, the 
Place de la Concorde, the Champs-Ely sees, the Pan- 
theon and the old Mount Sainte-Genevieve, the 
Marais furrowed with twice-contorted streets, defiled 
before our interested eyes ; and while these unex- 
pected aspects of our beautiful Paris amazed us by 
their strangeness, we could not help thinking, " But 
where in the world have we seen all this? " It was 
in the famous plan, called Turgot's, which dates from 
1TS9! 

The vision is the same, and, wonderful to relate, 
certain pictures seem precisely the same in outline, — 



110 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

the Marais, the surroundings of the Pantheon, the 
Place Vendome, the Place des Vosges, — we passed a 
delightful hour seeking for these relics of Old Paris 
enshrined in the Paris of to-day. They become ever 
fewer, alas ! The bouquet of green leaves in the 
centre of which blossomed, even into the nineteenth 
century, " the most beautiful city in the world," 
grows thinner day by day ! Surely the vision is 
always admirable, but how much less interesting and 
picturesque than formerly ! Here is the explanation 
of the aerostatic craze of our worthy ancestors ! 

Perhaps it was to contemplate Paris under this 
new aspect that the eccentric Marquis de Bacqueville 
announced, in 1783, that on such a day at such an 
hour he would rise into the air from the roof of his 
hotel, situated on the quai Malaquais, at the corner 
of the rue des Saints-Peres. The whole city was in 
commotion : the quays, the banks of the Seine, the 
neighboring houses, the bridges, were gorged with 
curious folk. At the hour appointed the Marquis 
appears, wings on his back, followed by his servant 
equally befeathered. But a controversy arises, the 
Marquis has decided that his servant shall fly at the 
same time with himself. The lackey, correct and 
quite according to rule, refuses ; he will be satisfied 
to follow his master at a respectful distance. M. de 
Bacqueville throws himself into the air; his first 
spring carries him as far as the middle of the Seine; 
there he is seen to " beat the wing," he falls upon a 
washerwoman's barge and breaks his leg. The ser- 
vant then goes down by the stairs, and with the aid 
of a bark gathers in his master in very bad case. 




The Louvre and the Holies seen from 700 metres of altitude 

(Extract from Paris seen from a balloon by Andre Schelcher and 

A. Omer-Decugis.) 



112 



BYWAYS OF PARIS 



The dream of the " flying men," for Bacqueville 
had many predecessors, was realized by the aero- 
nauts. Every one remembers the first experiment of 
aerostation attempted by the Montgolfier brothers 




The Day's Folly (drawn and engraved by A. Y. Sergent, 1783) 

on June 5, 1783, before the Estates of the Vivarais. 
A " celestial globe," inflated with gas obtained with 
the help of a mixture of damp straw and carded wool, 
rose magnificently. The conquest of the air seemed 
to have been realized, and all France, from king to 



PARIS SEEN FROM A BALLOON 113 

longshoreman, thought of nothing but aerostation. 
Then it was that " sublime maniacs " asked them- 
selves if it would not be possible to confide oneself to 
the Montgolfiers and " bathe in the ether." The 
people of Paris demanded a balloon; a subscription 
of eight hundred tickets at a crown each was at once 
taken ; the police had to post squads of sentinels, 
on foot and horseback, to guard the workshops 
on the Place des Victoires, where the aerostat was 
being made. At last, on August 27, 1783, before 
daybreak, the inflated balloon was solemnly carried, 
by torchlight, to the Champ-de-Mars. What a 
sensation ! 

The banks of the Seine, the immense plain of the 
Champ-de-Mars, courts, windows, the roofs of the 
Ecole Militaire, are black with people. At five o'clock 
a cannon shot gives the signal, the ropes are let go, 
the balloon rises and is lost in the clouds. A terrific 
thunderstorm fails to cool the zeal of the curious, 
and " one saw most elegant ladies follow the ' as- 
tounding miracle ' with their eyes, without appearing 
to perceive the dew with which they were saturated*" 
An hour later the " Montgolfiere " came down at 
Gonesse, in the midst of a crowd of peasants who 
thought their last hour had arrived ; " some thought 
it an appearance of the Beast of the Apocalypse, 
others beheld in it the fall of the Moon." They fired 
guns, from afar, at the monster which " spit smoke " 
and finished by collapsing it with blows of pitchforks, 
flails, and sticks. 

In the faubourg Saint- Antoine, in the doubly his- 
toric garden of Reveillon, the first series of experi- 



114 BYAVAYS OF PARIS 

ments with the captive balloon was attempted, finally, 
on the 21st of November, 1783. Pilatre de Rozier, 
" a man of projects," in company with the Marquis 
d'Arlandes, made the first ascension in an unattached 
balloon in the Park of la Muette, Bois de Boulogne. 
These two men of valor made use of Reveillon's bal- 
loon. Already worn by numerous experiments, it 
burst at the moment when the intrepid innovators 
were about to take their places in it; it was neces- 
sary to discharge the gas and mend it. Then might 
be seen the most distinguished ladies of the court, 
hurrying, needle in hand, to repair damages. All 
M^as done in an hour. The audacious " navigators 
of the air " majestically quitted the earth before an 
enthusiastic and excited crowd, the first rows of which 
had been forced to kneel to permit more distant spec- 
tators also to contemplate the " Gods of the Atmos- 
phere carried upon the clouds." The balloon rose 
to a height of 340 toises (more than 400 metres), 
crossed Paris, and after having risked overturning 
on the windmills at Gentilly, came down upon the 
Butte-aux-Cailles, beyond the Barrier of Italy. 

These experiments drove Paris wild ; on December 
1, 1784, four hundred thousand persons were crowded 
into the Tuileries Gardens, on quays and roofs, to 
see the departure of the aeronauts Charles and 
Robert, in " a balloon inflated with hydrogen gas." 
The academic bodies and subscribers who had paid 
four louis took places in the reserved circle, and upon 
the amphitheatre around the basin. The rest of the 
garden was filled in a twinkling by spectators at three 
livres the ticket. Pieces of artillery had been sta- 



PARIS SEEN FROM A BALLOON 



115 



tioned on the terrace of the palace, and a great flag 
flying from the cupola served for the signals. The 
vast globe of 27 feet in diameter slowly rises, carry- 




I- v^ci ump l.viti .111 cliof do Id MucHo.pa 



M I'llafi <■ ilr Ro/ior 



,/, 



! 



The Balloon of 1783 

ing with it an elegant blue and gold car and the 
two audacious travellers.^ After a journey of nine 

1 MM. Charles and Robert made a machine costing more than 
15,000 francs, and announced that they would set out in liberty with 
it. The great day took place December 1, 1784... The machine 
was placed over the great basin of the parterre of the Tuileries. 

Imagine the noble fagade, the roofs, and the beautiful garden, 
filled with the very finest class of people, the two banks of the river, 
the Place Louis XV, the Cours, and beyond, the environs filled with 
so fine a crowd that my son, who sent me the best picture of it and 



116 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

leagues, the balloon, having come to earth in the 
prairie of Nesles, was joined by the Due de Chartres, 
who, " mounted on an excellent horse, had followed 
it from Paris without losing sight of it for a single 
instant." ^ 

Up to the time of the Revolution there was a fever 
of aerostatics.^ Not a festivity, not a jo^^ful meet- 
ing, without balloon ascensions and aerostatic figures 
in bladders. In the Ruggieri Gardens in Paris the 
able artificer sent up an " equestrian statue 8% feet 
high and a nymph of 8 feet, which arose very high, 
maintaining their equilibrium, and came down again 
in the outskirts of Paris without being injured."'' 
The Republican generals in their turn made use of 
the ingenious invention. At the battle of Fleurus for 
the first time use was made of a balloon " tire a bras 
d'homme,^^ from which Guyton de Morveau and an 

the best details from his own hand, pointed out to me that for once 
it might be said that all Paris was there. Happily the weather 
was fine. 

MM. Charles and Robert entered the car (8 feet in length) at forty 
minutes past one, and went up into the air, to the enthusiasm of all 
Paris. Passing above the multitude in the Place Louis XV, they 
threw down their flag, by way of honor to the bystanders; this, 
zig-zagging in the air, made every one tremble, believing that it 
was themselves who were falling. — Journal inedit du Due de Croy, 
published by the Vicomte de Grouchy and Paul Cottin, t. IV, p. 318, 

1 Memoires secrets, t. XXIV, pp. 53-57, 62, 'passim. 

2 Have you seen M. Montgolfier of Lyons pass your house in the 
air? He must have left that city for Paris or Marseilles, according 
as the wind blew at the time. I shiver when I recall the globe of 
the Tuileries passing within two leagues of Saint-Denis at the height 
of 1400 toises perpendicular. And there were two men! This 
sort of carriage is not made for me, and a thousand experiments, 
each more successful than the other, would never bring me to prefer 
it to the hardest and most rickety of fiacres (Jan. 9, 1784). — Auto- 
graph letter from the Abbe Mai, Canon of Saint-Denis. 

2 Memoires secrets, t. XXIX, p. 259. 




' (^ '^\ ' ' / 

E,i-/'fn/-/h£ 'fade J ^ 
SmJ la f>tredioru 
I'ar .41. Z' u'Varmui <ILirLmdt'4-^<. 




^. Je Jl J^onl</i'^r^ . '" | " l^&s 



First Aerial Journey 



118 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

officer named Lomet observed and unmasked the 
enemy's movements. Lazare Carnot ordered from 
Lyons the ells of taffeta required for making military 
air-balloons ; and in the year II the little chateau 
of Meudon was especially affected to aerostatic ex- 
periments by the Committee of Public Safety. Under 
the Directory it was the craze of the day: at Rug- 
gieri's, in the Tivoli and Frascati gardens ballons 
monies were sent up, — not always without danger, 
in an epoch when emigration was punishable with 
death. Thus the aeronaut Garnerin, in the 26th 
Thermidor, year VI, was careful to send to the ad- 
ministrators of the Department of the Seine the 
following amusing letter : 

"I have the honor to inform you that I have the intention 
to undertake to-morrow an extensive aerial journey. As it 
is possible that the winds, getting the best of me, may force 
me to cross the frontiers of the Republic, I now declare to 
you that I have no intention of emigrating or of forsaking my 
country. I pray you kindly to give me an act of this declara- 
tion to serve me as passport. Health and Brotherhood. — 
Garnerin, rue Dominique, New House of the ci-devant 
Jacobins in Paris. ^ 

All these stories seem legendary now. They are 
the ancient history of aerostation.^ Parisians who 

1 Autograph letter, G. Cain Collection. 

2 "The ascension was made with majesty. A young person of 
eighteen years and Citizen Garnerin entered the aerial carriage, 
which came down much more promptly than was expected. Garnerin 
did his best to reach the Luxembourg, but could get no farther than 
the rue de Tournon, which, happily for him and his travelling com- 
panion, was sufficiently wide to admit the Montgolfiere, the contour 
of which was enormous, and from which sparks were continually 
falling in quantities. Two police commissaries and the firemen 
started on the run, and reached the rue de Tournon at the moment of 
the Montgolfiere's descent. The young woman appears to have 



120 BYWAYS or PARIS 

were children in 1870 still remember how they gazed 
from the Place Saint-Pierre, at the foot of the butte 
Montmartre, upon the " siege balloons " carrying 
not only Gambetta and Spuller ^ over the heads of 
the investing lines, but other heroic aeronauts, many 
of whom, alas ! have disappeared, killed, drowned, 
lost — no one knows how — and also our letters to 

maintained the greatest presence of mind in the midst of the dangers 
encountered by the travellers." — Journal des Dehats of the 17th 
Thermidor, year VIII (Aulard, Paris sous le Consulat, t. I, p. 578). 

1 Departure of M. Gambetta for Tours, October 7, 1870. "For 
the last three days the Armand-Barbes and the George-Sand, inflated 
with hydrogen gas and detained by their ropes, have been hanging 
motionless above the Place Saint-Pierre. Not the slightest breath 
of air. An implacable calm. At last, on Saturday, October 8, a 
breeze came up, and the departure of the balloons was determined 
upon. 

"At eleven o'clock in the morning the two air-balloons arose 
simultaneously. Gambetta and M. Spuller, his secretary, took their 
places beside M. Trichet the aeronaut in the first car. The second 
balloon carried two Americans, Messrs. Raynold and May, with 
M. Cuzon, recently called to a subprefecture in Brittany. 

"The crowd was considerable. Grouped upon the southern slope 
of the hill, which at the height of the telegraph and the new marine 
batteries forms an amphitheatre around the Place, they saluted the 
brave travellers who offered their lives for the country with cries of 
' Long live France ! Long live the Republic ! ' 

"As the Armand-Barbes slowly rose, the aeronaut Trichet floated 
from the car a long pennant of the national colors, upon which were 
inscribed the words ' Long live the Republic ! ' 

"The Armand-Barbes carried some carrier pigeons, ^ho, immedi- 
ately upon the grounding of the balloons, were to be set free to return 
to Paris with the announcement that Gambetta had made a safe port. 

"It was not until Sunday evening, thirty-six hours after the as- 
cension, that M. Janody, the owner of the famous pigeon-cote of 
Batignolles, beheld the return of Great-Red and Gray-Miller, which 
had gone with the George-Sand. 

"On Monday at five o'clock a pigeon announced the safe arrival 
of the Armand-Barbes at Montdidier. The balloon had grounded 
with some diflSculty but without accident in the night of Saturday. 
The carrier pigeon, in addition to this news, brought a long despatch 
in cipher which gave the government the best news of the province." 
— Le Monde Illustre, October 13, 1870. 



PARIS SEEN FROM A BALLOON 



121 



distant friends, our appeals to the provincial armies 
— something of our hopes and much of our hearts. 
In 1879 we saw the "captive balloon " moored in 
the Court of the Carrousel, projecting its light 








Madame de Montgolfier 

shadow upon the charred walls of the Tuileries 
Palace. Since then we have witnessed the trium- 
phant aerostatic exposition, we have heard — with 
what proudl}^ patriotic emotion ! — the screws of the 
Patrie and the Ville-de-Paris humming above our 
dear city ; and at the present day people go up in 



122 BYWAYS OF PAHIS 

balloons with more unconcern than they once risked 
themselves in a diligence ! 

However, the investiture, the " proper caper," is 
to have " ascensioned " oneself. How can one talk 
of aerostation without having received the sacred 
baptism? Therefore, ashamed of my ignorance, I 
was about to abandon my present task when my 
brother Henry came to my aid. " Why, certainly, 
I can tell you all about it; I haA^e made an ascen- 
sion — it was indeed an adventure which I shall 
never forget. Some ten years ago the accidents of 
military duty took me to Annecy. I was alone 
and bored. Strolling about one day I chanced upon 
a local festival, a sort of open-air fair, which had 
taken possession of a suburb of the little town. 

"An aeronaut, wearing a heavily braided jacket, 
had just finished inflating a balloon, the gilded cover- 
ing of which shimmered in the sunlight. This ' com- 
mandant ' was calling upon some Avell-disposed per- 
son to consent to the joy of accompanying him in 
his aerial voyage — for fifty francs ! How the 
notion took me to acquiesce in his request is some- 
thing that I cannot explain to this day. But once 
in the gear it was impossible to withdraw; I was 
the long-desired ' amateur ' ! 

" Every one applauded ; I took my place in the 
car, — a sort of washerwoman's basket, which, I 
regret to say, left much to be desired. The ' com- 
mandant ' was a light weight. I could not say as 
much of myself, and the open-work bottom creaked 
terribly under our united avoirdupois ! 

" I ventured a timid observation which was lost 



PARIS SEEN FROM A BALLOON 123 

in the strident harmonies of the Samhre-et-Meuse 
March. ' Let go all ! ' My companion showered 
kisses and ballast upon the enthusiastic crowd. We 
were off ! At that very moment the ' commandant,' 
with feverish haste, stripped off his braided jacket 
and his uniform trousers. I thought him mad. Not 
at all. Suddenly he appeared in a gymnast's tights. 
Placing a tricolored flag in my hand, he gave the 
brief and authoritative command, " Wave that ! ' and 
stepping over the edge of the pannier, by a slack 
rope he slipped to a trapeze suspended below the 
car. Upon this he performed a number of graceful 
capers, while from second to second the shouting 
crowd dwindled before my staring eyes. I conclude 
my odyssey by acknowledging that the grounding 
was difficult and that my internal economy had much 
to suifer from a too impulsive descent ! " 

Thus it is that I have " ascensioned " — by fra- 
ternal procuration. But, as Figaro says, it is not 
necessary to have money in order to talk about it. 
How many men find reason enough in the third page 
of their morning paper for swearing undying affec- 
tion for our " national aeronauts " ! What emo- 
tion when we learned that Wright, solving the eternal 
problem, had flown like a bird, and that Farman, 
overleaping with one prodigious bound houses, for- 
ests, telegraph poles, and poplar screens, had gone 
by aviation from one city to another ! 

This, indeed, is the period when swarms of gilded 
balloons daily hover, glittering in the sunlight, above 
Paris ; and " humble earth-folk " admire and envy 
the Olympian aeronauts ! Their passion is not, 



124 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

however, " all repose " ; it bristles with dangers, 
surprises, betrayals. Therefore it becomes us to 
acclaim with loud voice those daring Frenchmen who 
so gayly, so light-heartedly, risk their lives to pre- 
serve to our country the palm of the " air record " ! 
We have all applauded the glorious and popular 
name of Santos-Dumont, who first of all had the 
honor of rising from earth in an aeroplane ; the 
names of Bleriot, Esnault-Pelleterie, Deutsch de la 
Meurthe, Castillon de Saint-Victor, Lebaudy, Jacques 
Balsau:, Farman, Alfred Leblanc, Tissandier, Cle- 
ment. And how shall I close my honor-roll more 
suitably than by sending, in the name of all Parisians 
— who, I am sure, will not disavow me — salutations 
and hopes for a prompt recovery to Messrs. La 
Vaulx ^ and Leon Barthou, still bleeding from their 
recent heroic struggle against a fearful tempest.^ 

What visions are evoked by these photographs of 
Paris seen from a balloon, spread out upon the table 
of the Carnavalet Museum ! 

1 The longest aerial journey as yet accomplished is that of Count 
La Vaulx, who set out from Vincennes with Count Castillon de Saint- 
Victor, on October 9, 1909, and came down on October 11 at Karosty- 
chew, in the government of Kief, Russia. 

2 Messrs. de La Vaulx and Leon Barthou, assailed fey a frightful 
"tornado," were carried for leagues at a mad velocity. They at- 
tempted a descent within sight of the Mediterranean. Their balloon 
was wrecked in the mountains of the Baux, near Aries. M. Leon 
Barthou, stunned and bleeding, lay in the bottom of the shattered 
car, while M. de La Vaulx, with one leg broken, succeeded by a 
miracle of determined heroism in bringing the balloon to earth. 



THE VAUDEVILLE THEATRE 

"HP HE Frenchman, born clever, created the vaude- 
ville," as a celebrated verse assures us, but 
he did not just at first erect that temple at the 
corner of the Chaussee d'Antin where vaudeville 
displays itself to-day. It was originally in the rue 
de Chartres, — a tortuous little street connecting the 
Place du Carrousel with the Place du Palais-Royal, 
— upon the very site of the present Ministry of 
Finance, that two dramatic authors, Piis and Barre, 
profiting by the decree of the National Assembly 
proclaiming the freedom of theatres, founded the 
Vaudeville upon the ruins of a popular Ball, the 
Petit-Pantheon. The opening took place on January 
12, 1792, and success crowned the enterprise. 

During the Revolution, even during the Terror, 
the Vaudeville made money. Naturally, its pleasant 
repertory must needs have undergone serious modi- 
fications. " The theatres are the primary schools 
of enlightened men, and a supplement to public 
education," declared the Conventionnel Barere ; 
therefore the Parisian theatres — the Vaudeville 
with the others — became ahundsiutly sans-culottized I 
" The Last Judgment of Kings," " Another Priest ! " 
"The Death of Marat," "The Potentates Over^ 
thrown by the Mountain," " The Tomb of Impos- 



126 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

tors," " Down with the Skull-cap ! " — such were 
the enticing titles of the most popular plays. 

Then, upon the Vaudeville stage might be studied 
Mutius Scaevola, Potemkin, Jean-Jacques Rousseau. 
" The Republican Nurse, or the Pleasures of Adop- 
tion," was played there, and the theatre prospered. 
There was but one shadow over the picture, — it 
sometimes occurred that crossing the Place Royale 
on the way to the theatre about half-past five, one 
met carts loaded with condemned persons going by 
way of the faubourg Saint-Honore to the Place de 
la Revolution, where stood the terrible " Silence- 
Mill." But one finally learned to lend no more 
than a discreet attention to such accidental re- 
minders, and the receipts suffered none too much 
in consequence. 

It was inconceivable that, at the very time when 
the scaffold daily ran with blood, Parisians should 
continue to frequent the theatres, even though they 
reflected the "jubilee spirit." From time to time 
the curtain, painted like the boxes, in tricolor, 
would rise upon some unexpected interlude: a 
Jacobin harpsichord player executing a " national 
pot-pourri upon the 10th of August, dedicated to 
the manes of William Tell," or perhaps a barytone 
of the mountain tuning his voice to a lament upon 
the death of Marat; and the public, all a-thrill, 
taking up the refrain: 

" Pleurez, pleurez, patriotes, 
Pleurez cet homme divin. . . /" 

For that matter, they wept for Marat and mag- 
nified his virtues in every theatre of Paris ; at that 



128 BYWAYS OF PAIUS 

time his polychrome effigy was affixed, afber the 
manner of an idol, at street corners and on public 
squares. At the period when his bust occupied the 
place formerly that of the Virgin of the rue aux 
Ours, the picture of the People's Friend,^ framed 
in imitated lictor's fasces, was hung up in concert 
halls where the too aristocratic proscenium boxes 
had been replaced by statues of Liberty and 
Equalit3^^ 

The reaction of Thermidor changed all this : civic 
pieces succeeded those of revolutionary import; 
" mothers " uttered on the boards of the Vaudeville 
the language of the women of Sparta and Rome — 
of course all the theatres harmonized upon the same 
key. " The Apotheosis of Bara," " The Taking of 
Toulon," " The Republican Saltpetriers,'' " The 
Battle of Thermopylae " were the pieces in vogue in 
1794, and the thirteen-year-old apprentice " La Bra- 
voure " is overwhelmed with applause when he sings 
" No Quarter " (Scms-Quartier) to his father, the 

^ During the period of the Revolution, when the "Chaste Susan- 
nah" of Barre, Radet, and Desfontaines was being played, some one 
saw in the drama an allusion to the future trial of Marie Antoinette, 
when the judge says to the two old men who have accused Susannah, 
"You are my accusers, you cannot be my judges,"- applause and 
hisses arose, and soon the tumult became such that it was necessary 
to clear the hall, and the three authors were shortly after arrested. 
Radet and Desfontaines expiated their courageous words by six 
months of prison. — Chronique des Petits Theatres de Paris, by 
Brazier, 1837, p. 94. 

^ Titles of some of the pieces played at the Vaudeville in 1794: 
Volunteers on the Way, or the Rape of the Church Bells. The 
Festival of Equality. The Noble Plebeian, in one act. The Re- 
publican Nurse, or the Pleasures of Adoption. The Chouans of 
Vitre, opera vaudeville in one act. The ill-observed Recantation, 
vaudeville in one act. — Almanack of the Muses for the Year III of 
the French Republic. 



THE VAUDEVILLE THEATRE 129 

blacksmith, while pulling the bellows-rope of the 
forge: 

" Papa, quand je te vols forgeant 
L'arme qui doit, heureux presage, 
Detruire le dernier tyran, 
Comme je souffle avec courage! " ^ 

Papa, when I see thee forging 
Weapons which by happy fortune 
Win lay low the last oppressor. 
How I swell with fortitude! 

In 1799, dexterously modifying its repertory to 
accord with events and political regimes, the Vaude- 
ville became Bonapartist : 

" Malgre leurs sinistres complots 
Je ne crains rien pour le heros 
Que la France renomme. . . 
Mais un fait bien sur en ce jour, 
C'est que de I'Egypte un retour 
Ramene un sauveur a la France." 

Let them plot to heart's desire, 
I fear nothing for the hero 
Whom all France acclaims. 
But one thing to-day is certain. 
That from Egypt he is coming 
Who will savior be of France. 

Therefore, in 1806, the grateful Bonaparte sum- 
moned the company of the rue de Chartres to his 
camp at Boulogne, where it presented various sen- 
sational dramas. He did even more for it; he 
extended the privileges of this theatre, the reper- 
tory of which thenceforth became comico-historical. 
Corneille, Turenne, Duguesclin, Joan of Arc, even 
Young, the lugubrious poet of the night and the 
graveyard, were currently evoked upon the boards 

1 Le Theatre revolutionnaire, by Jouffret, p. 318. 



130 



BYWAYS OF PARIS 



of the Vaudeville, where impromptu couplets were^ 
sung to refrains borrowed from the repertory of 
" The Cellar Key." Most of these great men were 
indeed represented " in travesty " by very pretty 
girls, and the chroniclers of the time never ran dry 




Theatre of the Comic Opera, later the Vaudeville Theatre 



of eulogies of " Mile. Riviere, who with equal success 
played the great lady and the cavalry officer." 

The sun of July, 1830, shone upon the triumph 
of the Vaudeville ; Etienne Arago,^ its manager, who 

1 M. Arago had scarcely attained this position when the Rev- 
olution of 1830 burst out. With the help of M. Duvert the young 
manager hastily put together an "occasional" piece entitled The 27th, 
28th and 29th of July. This vaudeville, a genuine political manifesto, 
was distinguished by much wit and gayety, and also by a very high 



THE YAUDEYILLE THEATRE 



131 



was Mayor of Paris in 1870, was, in fact, one of 
the heroes of the " Three Glorious (days)," having 
put at the disposition of the revolutionary soldiers 
all the costumes, arms, and accessories which were 
used in the military piece, " Sergeant Mathieu," 
then in course of representation. The comedian 
Arnal, dear to our grandfathers, made a great suc- 





Henri Monnier in "The Improvised Family" 



cess of the abracadabrant repertory of Duvert and 
Lauzanne, and the ingenious Henri Monnier tri- 
umphed in La Famille Improvisee, a transformation 
burlesque in which he took all the parts, or nearly 
so ! The theatre was in the height of its popularity 
when a fire broke out (July 16, 1838) and reduced it 
to ashes. The company found temporary refuge 

tone of feeling: born of the barricades, it was destined to encounter 
gunpowder. The Vaudeville then took the name Theatre National 
— Chronique des Petits Theatres de Paris, Brazier, p. 120. 



132 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

in the hall of a " spectacle-cafe," belongmg to the 
Bonne-Nouvelle bazaar, near the Porte Saint-Denis. 
For a short time only, however, since, on May 16, 
1840, the theatre was able to take up permanent 
quarters in the abandoned building of the Opera- 
Comique on the Place de la Bourse. In this hall — 
which stood upon the present site of the rue du 




Henri Monnier (after Gavarni) 

Quatre-Septembre, in a row of houses opposite the 
Palace of the Bourse — were carried on for nearly 
thirty years those brilliant dramatic contests which 
revolutionized Paris. 

A group of young playwrights, Th. Barriere, 
Emile Auger, Octave Feuillet, the younger Alexan- 
dre Dumas, Victorien Sardou, created a new art, put 
movement, life, passion upon the stage, modernizing 
the conventional romanticism of 1830. On February 
2, 1852, the Vaudeville Theatre announced the first 
presentation of La Dame auoo Camelias, of which 



THE VAUDEVILLE THEATRE 133 

Alexandre Dumas fils, its proud author, thus relates 
its inception : " It was written in barely a week in 
the summer of 1849, just as it happened, on such 
scraps of paper, whatever their shape, as chanced 
to be on my table." The younger Dumas after- 
ward told of his emotion on reading the first three 



Arnal in "A Burning Fever" 

acts to that great man his father. " ' Go on, read 
the rest,' he said, looking at me as he had never 
looked at me before. It was about two or three 
o'clock ; I had an engagement which it was impos- 
sible to break. ' Go,' he said, ' and come back soon. 
I am impatient to hear the end.' The matter which 
called me away was soon attended to, and I literally 
ran back to Avenue Frochot. The moment I opened 
the door of his study my father rose, bathed in 



134 



BY^VAYS OF PARIS 



tears, and clasped me in bis arms. ' I could not re- 
sist,' he said; 'I had to know whether jou could 
keep it up well to the end. It will be an immense 
success if the Censor permits the piece to be played.' 



MAGASIN TIlliATHAL 

PiftCP.S ANr.IRNNES ET NOUVELLR" 



Trix: 50 cenlimes. 



BARBRE, EDITEUH 

BOOlBVAnD SAINT-UAnTIN, 41 




LA DAME AUX CAMELIAS 



PIECE EN CINQ ACTES, M£l£E DE CHAM 



M. ALEXANDRE DUMAS FILS 

ndsrNTfB POUB IA PREHIdllB rO[S, A PARIS, SOB IB TuiATRB DO TAODBVIllB , LI t riTKin iSC^. 



lIlM.\f!D nUVAL. ?( ans... 
«. DUVAL, r>re d'Arm«nd... 

CASTO.^ niEUX, 58 ans 

SAINT-CAUnENS, bS arn 

GUSTAVE, amanl de Nkhctle 

LE COMTE DE CIRAY 

M. DE VARVILLE 

I.E DOCTEUn 

n»t COMMISSIONNAIRE 

COMKSTlOUBf) 



OISTRIDUTION 


DE i-A PIECE. 




»!<»0I. 




Woi>»l. 


K LCCDKT. 

I'ErES. 


PRUDENCE /..., 

KANINE 


AlTBK. 


■\»KCI. 




Cu«f 








. Woaai. 




Miall. 




CiaoL.m. 


...I.. Um. 


ad£le 


Bakon. 



Playbill of "La Dame aux C Amelias " 

We embraced one another again, a long embrace, 
both of us weeping, and the great success of the 
piece certainly never gave me one quarter of the 
pleasure which I experienced at that moment." 



THE VAUDEVILLE THEATRE 



135 



Les Filles cle marhre, Les Parisiens, Les Faux 
Bonshommes, Le Mariage d'Olympe, Le Roman d'un 
Jeune Homme pauvre, in which a deHghtful girl, 
Blanche Pierson, made her first appearance, con- 



AQUE PIECE. 20 CENTIMES. 



THEJTRE C0NTEMP0R4IN iLLUiTRE 

"VPllll'Ifl lj|l| 



EL LEVY rr.ERES, I'UrTEUIlb 



,,,, HI lil^lnf^ 




LES PARISIENS 



PIECE EN TROIS ACTES 



M. THtODORE BARBltHE 



ftSPREsENTEE POLR LA PHEKIEHE FOI> 



AUDEVILLE, LE 28 DeCLMbHK 1854. 



DEMTKIDl'TlOW DB L« PI^Cl 



DESGENAIS,40 ins MM Keli 

M. MARTIN, raillionoaire, cousin do Baphafl, 



V. DE PPevAL, banquier. a.piranl 1 la • 
l.E CO.MTE RAOl L do PINTIlE, 29 ai,5. . 

JULES, fils de M. dc Pri'val, 19 aus 

MAXI.ME DE FREMPLE. vjcri^laire d« P 



C^.>,i,t 



PAUL GANDIN, homrae de leltres, 28 ana. . 

JOSEPH, dom:iliqu8 de Prtval... 

JUSri\. dom.'Slitiiic de Raoul 

ALBf RIC.M.fKQLISDEGBANDCHAMP.aOa 
GERMAIN, donesliq.K' de Jules de PrOval... 

MARIE, pupille de De«genai3, 19 aos 

CLOTILUE.fenimede PriSval, 34 ana 

Pai/L L.oA. I A\.MA.Ieur mie. 16 ans 

£n 18.39. a Pans — tj premier acu a I'hilet de Raoul de Piiitrf. 
PniilN.ltf lepr^siniah n de rcpn.duclion el de Iruduclion rfs.i\^^. 



Spbm. 
Gal^ir 



Playbill of " The Parisians " 



tinued the triumphant series which was crowned by 
some of the early works of the master Sardou : Les 
Femmes for'tes, Nos Intimes, and, finally. La Famille 
Benoiton (November 4, 1865). 



136 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

The vogue of this last was extraordinary. Paris 
not only adopted Benoiton costumes, Benoiton hats, 
Benoiton champagne, and even Benoiton shoes, but 
Frederic Febvre and Felix, two of the best inter- 
preters of the play, were so happy as to behold — 
acme of popularity ! — their portraits in lard in the 
show window of a pork-butcher of the rue de la 
Mare in Belleville. To crown all, Harmand, the 
manager, posted in the vestibule of the theatre this 
amazing announcement, " In view of the rush of for- 
eigners to the box-office, a polyglot interpreter has 
been engaged for their aid ! " 

But the days of the Vaudeville of the Place de 
la Bourse were numbered. It was without regret 
that Paris heard of the suppression of this incon- 
venient and dangerous hall by Prefect Haussmann. 
The opening of the rue du Quatre-Septembre (first 
called rue du Dix-Decembre) entailed the demolition 
of the theatre, which closed its doors on April 11, 
1869, reopening twelve days later at the corner 
of the boulevard des Capucines and the Chaussee 
d'Antin. We need not relate the new odyssey of 
the Vaudeville ; the events are too recent. Let us 
simply recall the early difficulties of this theatre — 
the war, the siege of Paris, which closed its doors, 
the hesitations, the gropings for the way ; it was not 
until 1872 that success once more appeared with 
Rcihagas. But what a struggle ! Paris was then in 
a state of siege; several journals condemned Sar- 
dou's play in advance. " Rabagas," they said, " is 
Gambetta." In fact in the author's mind Rahagas, 
written before 1870, was aimed at quite another 



THE VAUDEVILLE THEATRE 



137 



political personality. Then followed threats, abuse. 

uproars ; General de Ladmirault, the governor of 

Paris, massing his cavalry in the neighborhood of 

the theatre on the first night ! ^ — a fine prologue 

for a political satire ! On 

October 80 of the same 

year Leon Carvalho — 

the artist manager, the 

charming man to whom 

Gustave Flaubert sent a 

copy of La Tentation de 

Saint Antoine with the 

defiant dedication, " Put 

this on the stage, my 



good fellow 



. I " 



arave 



th( 




Mlle. Blanche Pierson 



first representation of 
Alphonse Daudet's L'Ar- 
Icsienne. Who will believe 
it? The piece seemed to 
be long, dull, utterly with- 
out interest. Even Bizet's music — that master- 
piece ! — passed unnoticed ! And while the orchestra 

1 Society of Dramatic Authors and Composers. 

Paris, October 27, 1905. 
Dear Monsieur Sardou: 

I hasten to send you the information which you desire on the 
subject of Rabagas. 

The first presentation was given at the Vaudeville Theatre, 
February 1, 1872, and was followed by a series of 237 repetitions 
ending September 29, and interrupted between September 30 and 
October 18 by 19 presentations of L' Arlesienne. Later a second 
series of representations of Rabagas was given, making a total of 273 
representations in the two series. 

Kindly accept, dear Monsieur Sardou, the expression of my most 
respectfully devoted sentiments. 

(Letter from Gangnat, general agent, to Victorien Sardou.) 



138 BYWAYS OF PAIUS 

was playing the Intermezzo, the despairing Bizet 
at the loop-hole in the curtain was anxiously study- 
ing the inattentive audience, spectators standing with 
their backs to the stage, chatting and joking. And 
Bizet went back to the coulisses, great tears flowing 
behind his opera-glass. 

The success of the piece was due partly to Mile. 
Fargueil, who played Rose Mamai with wonderful 
bursts of passion, but especially to a young actress, 
quite unknown, exquisite in all the grace, the charm, 
the sensibility of the touching part of Vivette. 
Every one asked about her. The debutante was fresh 
from the Conservatory ; she was the daughter of a 
worthy artist in sculpture, her name was Julia 
Regnault, but she had adopted the stage-name of 
Bartet, which she was destined to illumine with 
glory. At her first never-to-be-forgotten appear- 
ance the " Divine " conquered Paris ! ^ 

We need not here recount the various fortunes of 
the Vaudeville, where, through all its history lovers of 
art have been permitted to enjoy the most eminent 
comedians. Let us cite but a single name, that of 
Mme. Rejane, than which there is none more glorious. 

^ Certainly one of the most difficult of authors to satisfy, M. 
Victorien Sardou, decided to entrust Mile. Bartet with the creation 
of a capital role in a great work. Still it was not without some 
reserves, for he first of all made the condition that the final distribu- 
tion of parts should not be made till after the fifteenth or twentieth 
repetition. Mile. Bartet had the good sense not to appear nettled. 
She accepted the all-powerful author's condition sine qua non, and 
it was well that she did, for a fortnight had not elapsed before M. 
Sardou declared to the directory of the Vaudeville that he could not 
have found in all Paris a woman capable of playing the part better, 
nor one who more perfectly realized his type. — Foyer et Coulisses. 
(Vaudeville, p. 102.) 




Mlle. Bartet in " L'Arlesienne " 



140 



BYWAYS OF PARIS 



On the other hand, to enumerate the authors 
who have won fame in this fine theatre, would be 
to recite the bead-roll of prize-winners of fame! 





Mme. Rejane in " Mme. Sans-Gene " 

It has been a pleasant task to recallxthese long- 
past stages in the history of the Vaudeville, so in- 
timately entwined with the history of our dear 
Paris. 



PARIS AT NIGHT 

AROUND SAINT-MERRI— THE HOTEL OF THE UPPER 

LOIRE — AT EMILE'S — THE CELLARS OF 

THE MARKETS 

Tj^LEVEN o'clock; great purplish clouds passing 
across the moon ; now and again peals of thunder 
and flashes of lightning, like jets of electric light, 
bring out against the sky the sharp outlines of the 
immense city. Our friends are growing nervous in 
the great studio where they are finishing their cigars. 
They are impatient to betake themselves to some 
weird corner of nocturnal Paris, tragic or comic. 
Yet they would better have patience ; the excursion 
will be all the more typical the later we make it. 

Not before one o'clock in the morning do bohe- 
mians, the unfortunates, the purotins, the apaches, 
the blacklegs, reach the shelters which we are plan- 
ning to visit — sleeping kennels, dens where the}^ 
may drink, sing, smoke, stupefy themselves — per- 
haps forget ! 

Until that time the troop of wretches " run their 
luck " ; some of them, sidewalk industrials, hang 
around the doors of theatres, cafes, cinemas, hail 
autos, open carriage doors, gather up cigar stumps, 
cry evening papers : " The Press — last edition ! " 
Others — disillusioned artists — philosophically di- 
vest themselves of the cast-off clothes of Louis XV 



142 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

seigneurs or the picturesque trappings of the cow- 
boys whom they have been " figuring " at fifteen 
cents a head at tlie Chatelet, the Porte-Saint-Martin, 
or the Ambigu, and take the road to the Markets, 
the refuges, the lodging-houses, — poor devils van- 
quished by life, whom one can but pity and help. 
The others — dangerous vagabonds, game for the 
House of Correction, candidates for " the New 
Prison," etc. — pace the slimy pavement in search 
of some evil to do — some belated pedestrian to 
attack, some drunken man to rob, some woman to 
fleece. 

At last we set out ; midnight is striking from 
the tower of Saint-Merri when we plunge into the 
tangle of muddy lanes and " chalky streets " that 
hem in the old Parisian church. 

It is like taking a plunge into a Paris of a former 
age, the Paris of Rabelais' time, a Paris peopled by 
vagrants, criminals, pot-guzzlers — creatures with- 
out pity. The very names of the streets which we 
follow — black slums, in the depths of which the 
reflected starlight dances here and there in the dirty 
puddles — smell of the Court of Miracles — Cut- 
bread Street, Break-loaf Street, Flitch-of-bacon 
Street, Devil-fish Alley. On the right and left are 
wretched hovels, tottering, dropsical, crumbling 
houses, with " leads " clinging like warts to their 
squalid fronts. Here and there dim lanterns show 
where furnished rooms may be had for six sous the 
night. We pass suspicious-looking doorways, doubt- 
ful corners wrapped in shade, " joints " before which 
wan-faced customers are taking a last turn at the 



rrrr"t:"-ii;" — ■^ 




The Church of Saint-Merri 



144 



BYWAYS OF PARIS 



" Zanzibar." Bareheaded girls, very young or of 
doubtful age, smoking cigarettes, eye us as we pass. 
One of us is wearing a chauffeur's cap and a great 
gray mackintosh. A coarse voice cries: 

" See the grand dukes in disguise ! " 

We halt at the " Upper-Loire " Hotel, 24, rue 




Saint-Merri Quarter, Former Hotel de la Reynie, 
24, RUE Quincampoix 

Quincampoix, former Hotel de la Reynie. It was 
once, it seems, a seignorial mansion, occupied by 
Gabrielle d'Estrees ! Now it is nothing more than 
a lodging-house for masons and market-porters, — 
worthy fellows, professionally forced to rise in the 
middle of the night or the smallest hours of the 
day. Folk therefore go early to bed in the " Upper- 
Loire " hotel and sleep thirteen to the dozen. 



PARIS AT NIGHT 



145 



We enter and mount the curious carved wood 
stairway as old as Henry IV. Once, perhaps, it 
was swept by the silver-embroidered petticoats of 
the royal favorite ; at 
the first landing we read 
this notice : " The pro- 
prietor of the hotel in- 
forms his guests that he 
has towels for the use 
of the feet at their 
service." The succes- 
sors of Gabrielle d'Es- 
trees wear " Russian 
socks '' ! 

The hotel is shaken 
by sonorous snores. We 
give a rapid glance at 
the " Senate," the best 
room, reserved for the 
regular boarders, a score 
of clean, well-made beds, 
of which the patron is 
justly proud. 

" Only think, sirs, we 
have ' senators ' who have 
slept here more than 
fifteen years ! One is 
a chickweed merchant, 
who was once worth more than two millions ! " 

By way of the rue de Venise, crowded with 
drunkards and street-walkers, — that rue de Venise 
where in 17S0, under the Regency, during the mad- 




The Church of Saint-Merri 



146 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

ness which took possession of Paris through banker 
Law and his Mississippi bubble, the young Count 
von Horn, a German prince related to the Regent, 
struck down and robbed a " shareholder " named 
Lacroix, — we reach the boulevard Sebastopol, the 
" Sebasto " dear to apaches. 

Already under the blue night stout porters are 
unloading turnips, carrots, cabbages, parsnips and 
celery from the market-wagons ; strong-shouldered 
fellows are carrying at the end of short iron-bound 
p©les quarters of beef and mutton, halves of pork, 
and from the direction of the fish market arise strong 
odors of the sea. 

No. 2, rue Courtalon, the house of Emile, ex- 
wrestler.^ The door opens upon the street and at 
first a frightful stench nearly suffocates us. From 
the immense dark hall arises a musty malodorous 
air, compounded of garlic, wine, dirt, the breathings 
of hundreds of sleepers. Emile has converted into 
dormitories the ground floor and cellars of this man- 
sion, opposite which, in the eighteenth century, stood 
at No. 6 the sculptured portal of the Linen Drapers' 
Bureau (reinstalled in the Square of the Innocents, 

^ The rue Courtalon, according to all historians, dji Breuil at 
their head, ran along outside the choir of the Church Sainte-Oppor- 
tune, which was originally an oratory dating from the earliest days 
of Christianity, Our Lady of the Woods, because it stood at the 
entrance of a wood. The existence of this wood appears to be proved 
by the presence of a tower, serving as a beacon during the night, in 
the midst of the Cemetery of the Innocents. This tower still existed 
in the eighteenth century. 

The oratory was given by a Carolingian king of the ninth century 
to Hildebrand, bishop of Seez, fleeing before the Normans, and with 
it the relics of Saint Opportune. Suppressed in 1790, the Church 
Sainte-Opportune was sold in 1792 as national property. 




The Linen Drapers' Bureau of the rue Courtalon 



148 BYWAYS or PARIS 

by the care of the Old Paris Commission).^ Emile 
had put in a quantity of wooden tables and benches, 
and entertains the " no-domiciles." For four sous 
these wretches buy a " bond " which gives them the 
right to sleep under a roof after partaking, at their 
choice, of a glass of wine or a bowl of warm soup. 
Emile gives out an average of two hundred and fifty 
" bonds " a night ! The refuge is open from six 
o'clock in the evening to half-past five in the morning ! 
We enter ; at first we can see nothing but a small 

^ The portal of the Linen Drapers' Bureau, dating from the eigh- 
teenth century, stood in the recess formed by the angle of the rue 
Courtalon and the Place Sainte-Opportune. It was in rock-work 
style, framing in a cartouche of black marble upon which appeared 
this inscription: 

Merchant Linex Drapers' Exchange 
1716 V 

Commerce of Linens and Laces 
(Dictionnaire portatif des Arts et Metiers, 1766, t. II, p. 116.) 

There were in 1734 eight hundred Mistress linen-drapers in Paris, 
under the patronage of Saint Louis; the linen drapers were not the 
only corporation having the right to carry on commerce in the mar- 
kets. In those days the Halles were not, as now, wholly devoted to 
the trade in food products; they were a sort of permanent fair where 
everything was sold. Each corporation here enjoyed special trading 
privileges, and its exchange, like that of the linen drapers, was situ- 
ated in this part of Paris. 

Thus in the eighteenth century the Goldsmiths' Exchange was in 
the rue des Orfevres, where their hotel may still be seen, not far from 
the salt warehouse; the Merchant Tailors had theiri^ on the quai 
de la Megisserie. (The Carnavalet Museum has lately acquired the 
inscription plate found in the excavations for the Metropolitan.) 
The Mercers had their exchange in the rue Quincampoix; the 
Furriers theirs in the rue Bertin-Poiree. The Hosiers had their seat 
in the cloisters of Saint- Jacques-la-Boucherie ; the Arquebusiers in 
rue Cocatrix; the Cobblers, rue de la Pelleterie; the Drapers, rue 
des Dechargeurs, — the fine front of their house at the present time 
forms one of the noblest ornaments of the Carnavalet garden; finally, 
the Pork (cochon) Butchers, as if by a sort of intentional play upon 
words, had their exchange on rue de la Cossonerie. — Charles 
Sellier, Rapport a la Commission du Vieux Paris. 



PARIS AT NIGHT 149 

table, a sort of low, ill-lighted counter. On the 
table are piles of dirty " bonds," glasses, a few 
bottles ; on one side a stove upon which a kettle 
of soup is boiling. Behind the table is Emile, a 
superb fellow of Herculean build, with turned-up 
moustache and a jovial air as of a good-natured 
child. Near him the active Madame Emile is offer- 
ing to a poor devil who has just come in his choice 
between the glass of wine and the bowl of soup. He 
gulps down the soup, wipes his mouth with the back 
of his hand, and shambles off into the darkness of 
the room, or slowly descends the worn cellar stairs, 
the entrance to which gapes beside the counter. 

By degrees our eyes become accustomed to the 
half darkness. The immense ground-floor room is 
seen to be full of sleeping men. Some are seated 
on benches, their heads hidden in their arms folded 
on the greasy table. Others — astute fellows who 
"know the ropes" — have chosen a -corner where 
they may lean against the wall ; they sleep with the 
mouth open, stiffly upright, their caps drawn down 
over their eyes. Many are snoring on the floor ; 
there are some even under the table, between the feet 
of their comrades in misfortune; a few have put old 
newspapers between their faces and the dirty floor. 

We go down into the cellars, vaguely lighted by 
a trembling gas jet. What a sight! Everywhere 
are wretched creatures stretched out side by side, like 
corpses, or rolled into a ball in a corner. One can- 
not walk without stepping over the bodies of sleepers. 

The earthen floor, the walls, the low ceiling, the 
clothes, the shoes of these poor creatures, their hands. 



150 



BYWAYS OF PARIS 



their hair, their beards, their faces — everything is 
of one color, the color of dried mud. 

What an immense compassion tightens the heart in 
the face of such misery, apparently so hopeless ! 
And yet these wretches are sleeping in a way to be 
envied by many a rich insomniac. 

They scarcely move as we carefully slip " bonds " 
— to-morrow's soup and lodging — into callous 
hands, open pockets, broken-visored caps. Our 




In the Cellar of the Halles 
Henri Braillet and Mile. Nini 

" bonds " exhausted, we empty our cigarette cases. 
It would seem that the odor of tobacco alone has 
the gift to awaken these sleepers ; outstretched hands 
emerge from the shadow, lips murmur thanks, eyes 
— those pitiful eyes as of a beaten dog — glisten 
with longing. We go up stairs suffocating! 

Emile kindly does the honors of the dwelling, 
showing first a series of his own photographs as a 
wrestler — proud trophies, recalling his encounters 



> 

W 
H 
H 

> 

O 

O 

a 

H 




152 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

with the most redoubtable " heavy weights " and 
" feather weights." He exhibits his enormous biceps, 
and Mme. Emile, justly proud, gazes tenderly upon 
the stout fellow who is her good husband. 

It is two in the morning. We pause a moment 
to inhale with relief the cool night air, then direct 
our steps to the Cellar of the Halles, 15, rue des 
Innocents — one of the most curious burrows of 
nocturnal Paris. We have already depicted this 
thieves' pothouse, where an ingenious landlord has 
converted the ancient cells of the monks of the 
liCague, in centuries past the guardians of the char- 
nel house of the Holy Innocents,^ into assignation 
rooms. 

We descend the narrow stone staircase, the walls 
of which are covered with inscriptions engraved by 
the knives of the special patrons of the place. In 
the cellars, two and a half metres high by four 
broad, the popular singer, Henri Braillet — an old 
acquaintance — comes toward us with outstretched 
hands. It is the best of references ; we cease to be 
suspected by the forty pairs of hard, suspicious 
eyes which had rapidly examined us. We had be- 

1 Louis XI authorized the construction in the rue de la Ferron- 
nerie, against the wall of the Charniers, of shops or penthouses which 
were to be rented to poor artisans on condition that they should not 
display their wares upon the public street, which was very narrow 
throughout its length: more attention was paid, however, to the 
authorization than to the prescription, "Under the Charniers," says 
the "Diary of a Journey to Paris in 1657," "and all along the pillars, 
may be found certain scriveners who are very well known by those 
who cannot write." 

There certainly were public scriveners in other parts of Paris — 
at the Palais, for example — but the most dexterous and the most 
renowned were installed at the Innocents. 



PARIS AT NIGHT 



153 



fore this sat at one of these wooden tables in the 
company of Claretie, Detaille, Henri-Robert, and we 
had not forgotten the exuberant enthusiasm of one 
of the regular frequenters of this place for our friend 
Albert Dussart : 
"When I think 
that he got me 
off!" His sur- 
prise was quite 
as great as his 
gratitude. 

They crowd a 
little to make 
room for us; 
offer us, as is fit- 
ting, the cigar- 
ette and the beer 
can of the fra- 
ternity; we ap- 
plaud Braillet 
and his comrade 
Mile. Nini, sing- 
ing, really very 
well, two amus- 
ing but anti- 
classical duets. 
A young man in a chauffeur's cap approaches, an 
album under his arm, pencils in his hand. It is the 
official artist of the house. He offers us his latest 
creations. We buy grotesque caricatures of Claretie 
and Barres and sign them; to-morrow these friends 
of ours will possess their effigies dated from this 




E. Rostand 

Sketch on the Wall of the Cellar of 
the Markets 



154 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

singular studio. Rostand is called for. On the in- 
stant in a few pencil strokes Rostand as Chantecler 
is before us. We ask for Pierre Loti — the painter 
does not know him — Yes ! Now he remembers ! the 
admirable writer has already posed at the Cellar of 
the Halles. We thank the able artist, who when we 
depart whispers this request : 

" Try to bring IM. Bonnat here ! I worked two 
months in his studio ! " 



THE GARDENS OF THE 
CARROUSEL 

/^NCE upon a time, by some chance, the unfortu- 
nate people of Paris — accustomed, alas ! to see 
barbarians sacking their city — had the unexpected 
joy of a delightful sight. The palisades surround- 
ing the hideous islet of bitumen which for years had 
disfigured the Place du Carrousel were thrown down, 
and they had the joy of discovering that a carpet 
of flowers would one day take the place of the 
desolate steppe where they used to freeze in winter 
and broil in summer. 

Thanks be given to INI. Redon, the architect of the 
Louvre, whose perfect taste arranged this verdant 
scene. 

Even the barrier of thin boards behind which the 
mysterious work was being carried on had been 
greeted with murmured praise. Then it really had 
been decided to do away w4th that lozenge of bitu- 
men, that dusty or muddy stadium around which, 
under Garnbetta's stony eye, unhappy runners, 
breathless, panting, lamentable, their bare legs in 
frayed trunks, their perspiring bodies in faded jer- 
seys, were painfully trained for the stern ordeal of 
the " foot races." It was the training field of the 
poor devils of the " French Marathon " ! One fine 
morning it was given us to see, through the inter- 



156 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

stices of the boarding, squads of workmen — on such 
days as by accident they were not on strike — open- 
ing trenches, putting up mounds, turning over the 
earth. 

To the diggers succeeded the flower-gardeners, 
beloved of the gods and dear to Parisians. Here 
at last is a charming French garden, blooming 
among the gray paving-stones of the Place du 
Carrousel. 

Never, since 1794, — blessed epoch when the for- 
lorn Place might pride herself upon two Liberty 
trees casting their patriotic shadows upon the tomb 
of the Pole Lazowski, Citizen Marat's friend, — has 
she been vouchsafed the alms of even a scrap of 
greenery. All this long time nothing has grown here 
but hideous public buildings and ugly houses — 
strange opposite neighbors for the palace of the 
kings of France ! 



* 
* * 



First of all, whence came this name, " Place of the 
Tournament"? It is the far distant memento of a 
gorgeous festival given in 1662, the magnificence of 
which, if we may believe Perrault, its official narra- 
tor, " surpassed that of the most famous tourneys." 
In fact, the spectacle must have been fairy-like ; the 
fine engravings of Israel Silvestre give the impres- 
sion of a marvellous gala — " races in a ring and 
races de testes made by the king and the princes and 
seigneurs of his court," a dazzling tournament with 
fifteen thousand charmed spectators, occupying three 



Tf^'ll.' 







Vh m 




Ruins of the Chapel of the Deanery and the Hotel 

DE LoNGUEVILLE 



158 BYWAYS or PARIS 

sides of the immense square. The fourth side was 
reserved for the " reynes, princesses, et dames de la 
cour,'^ a radiant company grouped upon a dais of 
purple velvet decorated with great golden fleurs-de- 
lis. Four quadrilles disputed the palm of elegance : 
" the Roman quadrille," led by the Duke de Gram- 
mont and commanded by the " Sun-King," Louis 
XIV, wearing the golden laurel wreath of Csesar, 
'^ preceded and followed by senators and esquires " ; 
the Persian quadrille, under the orders of Monsieur, 
the king's brother, the quadrille of the empire of the 
Indies, " recognizable by the paroquets surmounting 
the heads of the kettle drummers," and that of the 
" Ameriquains," distinguished by the " tiger skins, 
the scales, shells, and fins of fishes which adorned 
their costumes, as well as by the clubs of the foot- 
men and the leafy girdles of the grooms." Incredible 
coincidence, it was the king who " led the ring " 
after a race of which " the justice, the firmness, 
and the good grace were even preferable to its 
skill " ! 1 

^ The beautiful Gabrielle d'Estrees occupied the Hotel du Bou- 
chage, situated on the site of the ancfent building of the Grand-Coq, 
bought in 1584 by Henri de Joyeuse, Count du Bouchage, before 
she took possession of that house of the Trois-Pas-de-Degre, the 
site of which is now included in the Square of the Louvre, at the 
Porte Visconti of the Place du Carrousel. This house was connected 
with the king's apartment in the Louvre by a garden, kitchens, and 
oflSces. The door was guarded by four pages of the king, who were 
at Gabrielle's service, night and day. 

In this house was discovered in a leathern trunk the famous camp 
bed, ornamented with lace work and fringes of green silk, which the 
favorite took with her when she accompanied the king in his cam- 
paigns, for she bore herself bravely before the enemy, as witness the 
siege of Dreux in 1593 and that of Amiens in 1597. In the same place 
were also found several two-tined forks with handles of crystal. 



160 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

This brave festival had no successor. Louis XIV 
and Louis XV cared Kttle for the Tuileries and hved 
at Versailles, Saint-Germain, Fontainebleau, Marly, 
Louveciennes. The Revolution brought Louis XVI 
and his family back to Paris, on the 6th of October, 
1789. The Place du Carrousel, like the chateau itself, 
had been invaded and democratized. The one-while 
" Mademoiselle's parterre," ^ long since destroyed, 
had been converted into " courts," the Royal Court 
in the centre, the Court of the Princes on the south, 
the Court of the Swiss on the north. A great num- 
ber of lanes and alleys crossed the Carrousel, upon 
which were crowded hotels, stables, barracks, sheds, 
carriage houses, houses of evil repute — rue Saint- 
Nicaise (it crossed the Place and to-day would pass 
very nearly in front of Gambetta's monument), rue 
des Orties (along the gallery of the Louvre, parallel 
to the Seine), rue and impasse du Doyenne (on the 
site of the square, behind Gambetta's monument), rue 

ivory, or coral. When Gabrielle had guests at her table, these forks 
were laid at their places. As for Henri IV and the gentlemen of his 
suite, according to the old French custom they ate with their 
knives and their fingers. — Courbevoie et ses Environs, H. Vuagneux 
(pp. 29, 30). 

^ When Catherine de Medicis built the Palace of the Tuileries, 
it stood alone between a street which began at the Stables and ended 
near the Pont Royal, and a vacant lot between the city wall of Charles 
V and the Palace. In the seventeenth century the street was known 
as the rue des Tuileries. On the vacant lot an enclosure was made 
which in 1600 became a garden, the garden of Mademoiselle; it was 
laid waste when Louis XIV decided to finish the building of the 
Tuileries. 

After the fete of June 5 and 6, 1662, the Place, which also in- 
cluded the space covered by the houses of the rue Saint-Nicaise, kept 
the name Place du Carrousel, and later gave it to the street formed 
by the houses built on the site of the moat of the walls of Charles V. — 
Jaillot, Recherches Critiques sur Paris, t. I, p. 8. 



c-f 


^ 


p 


C" 


K 


>► 


O 


o 


P 


H 


P 


O 


cr 


rj 


o 




(-1- 


o 




> 


HJ 


w 


00 


a 


kt^ 


o 


<l 


d 




03 




H 


o 


f 


B 


rj 


ft- 


!^ 


tir 


D 


fC 


H 




S) 


r^- 






O 


P 
O 




CD 


w 


O 


•"d 


!-*» 


w 






fD 


t) 




'Tj 


^ 


H 


p^ 








p' 









162 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

de Chartres (in part upon the site of the present 
Ministry of Finance), rue du Musee (it began at the 
Place du Palais-Royal and ended at the rue du Car- 
rousel where the statue of La Fayette now stands), 
rue du Carrousel (in the middle of the Place, com- 
ing out at the Louvre wicket), rue Saint-Thomas- 
du-Louvre, rue du Chantre, rue Fromenteau. Most 
of these alleys had been opened upon the sites of the 
private palaces of those days, — hotel de Longue- 
ville, hotel d'Elbeuf, hotel d'O, hotel de Rambouillet, 
hospital of the Quinze-Vingts, etc., etc. They were 
wretched mews, dark, obscure, malodorous. The do- 
mestics of the palace and of the sumptuous man- 
sions near by were lodged there, to such an extent 
as to bring into the near neighborhood of the palace 
a suspicious and dangerous population. 

These alleys were much A^alued on days of upris- 
ings, and the " victors of the Tuileries " failed not 
to profit by them to draw upon the defenders of the 
old French monarchy. 

On June 20, and again on August 10, 1792, it 
was by these alleys that several columns of insur- 
gents made their way to the palace. The facts are 
well known, — the furious irruption, the massacre 
of the Swiss Guards, the departure of Louis XVI 
and the royal family, seeking asylum in the riding- 
school " in the bosom of the National Assembly," 
the pillage of the chateau, the court full of corpses 
" robbed by men, stabbed by women, licked by dogs, 
decomposed by the torrid heat," the court of the 
Tuileries, the Place du Carrousel and the neighbor- 
ing streets sown with broken bits of mirrors, glasses. 



THE GARDENS OF THE CARROUSEL 163 

porcelains, and white with the snow of " down and 
feathers " from the mattresses and pillows which 
the people, after drinking all the wine in the cellars 
of the tyrants, amused themselves by emptying out 
of the windows. 

The place has also been the scene of patriotic . 
manifestations. On August 2, 1793 (almost ex- 
actly where now begins that parterre of flowers 
bordering the Seine of which we are to-day so 
proud), the funeral ceremony in honor of the 
" divine " Marat took place. The Jacobins dedi- 
cated to his " manes " a wooden obelisk, which was 
placed before the monument of Lazowski, one of 
the heroes of August 10. An engraving of the time 
shows the grave plot surrounded by an iron fence 
guarded by a sans culotte charged to keep away 
irreverent dogs and drunkards. A Liberty tree 
adorned with a cockade and a tricolored flag stuck 
in the ground complete the imposing decoration. 
Under the obelisk in a sort of crypt are the hero's 
bust, lamp, writing-desk and bath, surmounted by 
the inscription. To the manes of Marat. From the 
depths of his dark vault he caused traitors to trem- 
ble. A perfidious hand ravished him from the love 
of the people. After the 9th Thermidor the column 
disappeared. 

On that day the court of the Carrousel saw 
Robespierre, Saint-Just, Couthon, and the " out- 
laws " of that terrible tribunal pass by, hooted by 
those very persons who had but now worshipped 
them. 

* * 



164 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

During several years life seemed to be extinct in 
the deserted Tuileries. The houses on the Carrousel 
embraced the opportunity to become dirtier, more 
evil-smelling, more ill-famed than ever. 

On February 19, 1800, the First Consul, Bona- 
parte, took up his residence in the palace of the 
kings of France. On days of review under the 
Consulate, as later under the Empire, the windows 
which looked upon the Place were occupied by ad- 
miring crowds. Imagine that little by little the 
houses — and what houses ! — had so encroached 
upon the territory beneath the palace windows that 
they were not more than a few metres distant ! The 
lately created flower borders mark almost precisely 
the place they occupied until the middle of the 
nineteenth century. 

It is easy, therefore, to understand what fine ob- 
servation points these sheds and barracks afforded 
to lovers of military fetes, and especially to those 
fanatics whose supreme joy it was to see HIM, 
wearing the green uniform of a colonel of chasseurs, 
his breast crossed by the broad red ribbon of the 
Legion of Honor, his " little hat " worn military- 
wise on his Caesarian head, surrounded by marshals 
and mamelukes, galloping along on his white horse 
before his regiments of heroes. 

Even on other than review days the Carrousel 
had ceased to be simply the dusty pandemonium of 
noise, disputes, clamors, chaos. Around the Hotel 
de Nantes (a hideous six-story cube of stone facing 
the charming triumphal arch of Percier and Fon- 
taine) swarmed all the old-fashioned coaches, wagons, 



s 

o 



o 

ft- 
o 
> 
o 

to 
a 

O 

H 

a 



03 

o 

CI 



a 
o 

S) 
O 

a 

o 

w 
w 
o 

cl 

CO 

H 




166 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

light vans, omnibuses, carriages, cabs, and cabrio- 
lets of Paris. From morning till night and from 
night till morning there was an uproar that might 
have awakened Epimenides himself. 

As to the narrow streets giving upon the Place, 
they were mean to such a point that the great 
Balzac could without exaggeration write in Cousine 
Bette: '"' The existence of that block of houses that 
lie along the old Louvre is one of those protests 
against good sense which the French like to make. 
Our grandchildren, who will doubtless see the com- 
pleted Louvre, will refuse to believe that such bar- 
barism could exist in the very heart of Paris, op- 
posite that palace in which three dynasties have 
entertained the elite of France and of Europe. The 
street and the blind alley of the Doyenne are the 
sole thoroughfares in this gloomy and deserted block 
of buildings whose inhabitants are doubtless phan- 
toms, for no one ever sees them. Already buried 
by the grading of the Place, these buildings are 
enshrouded in the eternal shadow projected by the 
high galleries of the Louvre, blackened on this side 
by the north wind. The darkness, the silence, the 
glacial air, the cavernous depth of the^^urface con- 
spire to make these buildings in some sort crypts, 
tombs for living beings." 

Speaking of the Place du Carrousel in its infancy, 
Sardou, the master of us all, wrote in the admirable 
preface^ with which he kindly honored our " Nooks 
of Paris " : " It was all odds and ends of torn-up 

1 Coins de Paris, by G. Cain. — Preface by V. Sardou (Flam- 
marion). 








S3H 









'i^^tdii ir:rH[ ItlPI 




168 BYWAYS or PARIS 

streets, isolated, tumble-down houses, shored up by 
beams. The rough, sunken, unpaved streets were on 
rainy days not better than a vast bog. . . . The 
civil list had built some sheds there, which, from the 
small court of the Sphinx to the wickets opening 
upon the bridge of the Saints-Peres, surrounded the 
ruins of the old church of Saint-Thomas-du-Loiivre 
and its dependences, such as the Priory, where Theo- 
phile Gautier, Gerard de Nerval, Nanteuil, Arsene 
Houssaye (and later Emile Augier and Jules San- 
deau) had installed their gay Bohemia. These sheds 
were rented to dealers in colors, prints, paintings, 
and curiosities of all sorts. I still see a great curi- 
osity shop wherein amidst the most curious sort of 
rubbish, ostrich eggs, stuffed crocodiles and scalps 
of red-skins, the collector might make marvellous 
finds. ... I have passed delightful hours there, 
rummaging through portfolios of which, alas ! I 
could only admire the contents, not having the 
means to buy masterpieces of which I realized the 
future value, but which were then sold for a song, 
the pedants of the school of David holding in 
sovereign contempt eighteenth-century French art, 
which was too pleasing, too intellectual, for their 
taste. ' Monsieur,' said one of these merchants to 
me later, ' I have wrapped up engravings by Poussin, 
for which to-day I would not give forty sous, in 
Debucourts which now I would not part with for 
a thousand francs.' " 

The remarkable Sardou sale, over which all Paris 
was stirred up a few weeks ago, proved that the 
master was not mistaken in his predictions I 



THE GARDENS OF THE CARROUSEL 169 



All those hovels are now replaced by the flower 
borders and squares of the Place du Carrousel. A 
carpet garden of coleus framed in by box occupies 
the centre of the beds, just where, on August 22, 
1792, Collenot, called d'Aigremont, was beheaded 
by the guillotine. This unfortunate, " condemned 
as a conspirator and leader of brigands in the pay 
of the court," had the melancholy honor of being 
the first to test, by torchlight at ten o'clock in the 
evening, the decapitating machine invented by Dr. 
Guillotin. A royalist journalist, Durosoy, died 
three days later in the same place, at the same hour 
and under the same conditions ; it was the beginning 
of a long series.^ 

Every alley of the Place du Carrousel has its 
own souvenirs ; in the rue Saint-Thomas-du-Louvre 
(near the end of the Place and opposite the wicket 
of the Museum), Mile. Carmago had her mansion 
and Piron his mansarde. The poet Crebillon and the 
painter Lantara lived in the rue du Chantre. Under 
the Revolution, the Vaudeville gave its representa- 
tions in the rue de Chartres (on the site of the 
present JNlinistry of Finance), and the " infernal 
machine " prepared in the rue Saint-Nicaise, 30th 
Nivose, year IX, to cut short the days of the First 
Consul, went off almost under the wicket leading to 



1 Gisors, the architect who was charged to fit up in the chateau 
of the Tuileries' the halls to be used by the National Convention, 
complained "that the workmen lose precious time going to executions 
in the Place du Carrousel." 



170 BYWAYS or PARIS 

the rue de Rohan, only a few yards from the spot 
where in 1905 the attempt against the life of the 
young king of Spain was made. Finally, the notes 
of a contemporary speak of the Place of the Museum 
as "the inviolable asylum of books and parrots." 
" Here may be seen," he says, " antiquaries, mowers, 
taxidermists, stationed like a menace beside bird 
fanciers, dealers in bric-a-brac, in proofs of Rem- 
brandts and shell opera glasses, in guitars and Eng- 
lish pears ! " 

All these at last disappeared; between 1849 and 
1852 ^ the demolisher's pick did justice to these 
horrors, and under the Second Empire the Place du 
Carrousel, its rubbish removed, its excrescences cut 
off, adorned by squares, appeared in all its beauty. 
The fires kindled by the Paris Commune having 
destroyed the Palace of the Tuileries, the Library 
of the Louvre, and a part of the galleries, it be- 
came necessary to erect temporary buildings ; for 
long years the Carrousel was again invaded by 
sheds. Then came the construction of the enormous 
monument to Gambetta, heavy and ungraceful, the 
demolition of the calcined remains of the Tuileries, 
the creation of gardens, and the blossoming out of 

^ Bonaparte, First Consul, had already caused a number of 
buildings in this maze of the Carrousel to be torn down. 

The Place du Carrousel was almost entirely unobstructed by the 
27 Floreal, year X. Nothing remained, according to the Journal of 
the Defenders of the Fatherland, but to throw down the old General 
Safety building, an edifice little to be regretted. The great gate in 
the iron fence of the palace of the Tuileries, in the Place du Carrousel, 
had just been painted, the iron parts in olive and the ornaments 
in copper, the four sides in pale yellow. — Aulard, Paris sous le 
Consulat, t. Ill, p. 62. 



^ 



cr 




a 


hi 


W 


M 


3 


> 


r* 


o 


P 


H 


C3 
O 




ri- 
O 


n 


0) 


> 




n 




d 
w 


c 




s 




P 




I— ' 




GO 




►i^ 




CO 






172 BYWAYS or PARIS 

those parterres of flowers which we are so happy 
as to enjoy to-day. 

It would seem that the avatars of the Place du 
Carrousel are terminated. Nothing grows there now 
but flowers, trees, and statues, those fortunate ex- 
ceptions which, thank God, have nothing to fear 
from the dangerous summersaults of politics — and 
yet, I dare assert as much only of mythological 
statues ! 




\ i 










Place du Carrousel 



"FRASCATl" 



npHE fine ladies who come to buy a peasant-cake 
at Frascati's, — boulevard Montmartre, — the 
loafers crowding around the irreverent posters of 
the " High Life Tailor " at the corner of the rue 
Richelieu, customers who hasten to be photographed 
at Reutlinger's or shaved at Lespes the baker's, are 
probably ignorant of the metamorphosis of this 
picturesque corner of Paris. Its history, however, 
is so interesting that we long to relate it. 

Our superb boulevards, planted with trees about 
1676, were in their early days entirely neglected. 
They seemed to be dangerous, lugubrious, and — 
so far away ! Pessimists disdainfully described 
them as " country," and the pessimists seemed to 
be right : the boulevards were neither cheerful nor 
safe. During the daytime a few bucolic prome- 
naders would go thither to indulge in revery, others 
would go to botanize by watching the market gar- 
deners weed their salads, bush their peas, gather 
their cabbages ; children played there, soldiers came 
to crack a bottle and enjoy a game of bowls. But 
at nightfall pickpockets and women of evil life held 
sabbath there ; robberies were committed, and this 
until the middle of the eighteenth century. From 
time to time some person of independent mind 
would set up his penates here, tempted by the low 



176 BYWAYS or PARIS 

price of land and the facilities for surrounding his 
" folly " with gardens planted with vines, roses, 
jasmins, cherry trees, even; we all know that from 
time immemorial a passion for gardening has been 
one of the joys of the people of Paris. 

Little by little houses were built, — the entrances, 
be it understood, always on the street, — people 
began to go to the boulevards to " take a breath 
of air." Carriages began to circulate, cavaliers to 
caracole ; foot passengers became less infrequent. 
All these things explain why, in 1784, the rich 
Farmer General Crozat resolved to erect a magnifi- 
cent mansion " of financier's dimensions " at the ex- 
tremity of the rue de Richelieu. He surrounded it 
with a garden " of noble extent, the views from 
which, extending to the country, are excessively 
varied. The terrace above the orangery which 
borders the new drive laid out upon the ramparts of 
the city furnished by itself alone a most delightful 
promenade. The fruit garden is beyond the coins^ 
and is reached by an underground passage, pierced 
at great expense through the platform of the ram- 
part." In other words, Crozat, having bought a part 
of the Grange Bateliere, made it his vegetable garden ; 
a tunnel passing under the boulevard united the two 
properties, which became at once town house and 
country house. The country house covered the sites 
of all the buildings now included between the rue 
Drouot, the passage Jouffroy, and the rue Grange 
Bateliere. 

Crozat's terrace soon became celebrated: it was 
the best place in the world for watching the pass- 



> 
o 




178 



BYWAYS OF PARIS 



ing of ever more numerous promenaders. " I find 
the ' Rampart ' charming ! " cried le Chevalier in a 
proverb by Carmontelle, " The House on the Boule- 
vard " : " One can see all Paris without going out ; 
it comes every day to walk under our windows." 
In another place the Countess complains of the 




The Little Marionettes 
Engraving of the time 

trees, which " hinder her from contemplating the 
promenade ! " 

Paris went on growing and being transformed. Al- 
ready an entire quarter had been built upon Crozat's 
cabbage garden ; the orangery converted into a 
garden, the house, pulled down and rebuilt by the 
famous architect Brongniart, became in 1789 the 
Hotel Lecoulteux de Nolay ; the fine terrace alone 



FRASCATI 



179 



was left intact. Then came the Revolution, empty- 
ing and confiscating the mansions whose owners had 
emigrated or been guillotined; under the Directory 
Citizen Garchi bought the Hotel Lecoulteux, at the 
corner of the boulevard, for a cafe! 

Garchi, an unexpected trophy of Bonaparte's vic- 




Parisian Costume of the Year VIII, Seen at Frascati 

tories, was an Italian imported into France at the 
same time with the lion of Saint Mark, the horses 
of Venice, the marbles and pictures of Roman 
palaces. This subtle concocter of lemonade con- 
quered Paris by the excellence of his perfumed ices 
and the sumptuousness of his pyrotechnics. 

The Hotel I^ecoulteux, converted into a cafe-ice- 
cream saloon, under the sign " Frascati," harbored 



180 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

all that homeless society which had been dispersed 
by the Revolution, a surprising company who " re- 
ceived " one another at balls organized by subscrip- 
tion. People contended for the tables on the famous 
terrace overlooking the boulevard. Elegant ladies 
there displayed their graces on three chairs, " one 
for themselves, one for their feet, one for their dog." 
Every evening a crowd would hasten thither to 
wonder at the fireworks, which scattered over Paris 
their treasures of diamonds, emeralds, and rubies. 
It was good style, on leaving the Opera House in 
the rue Richelieu (on the site now occupied by the 
square Louvois), to go to Frascati to burn punches 
or eat Garchi's ices, to walk with ladies in the 
alleys " illuminated a giorno,^^ which extended as far 
as the passage des Panoramas, and cost only " three 
livres for entrance."^ 

^ "I observed yesterday that the women's clothes were lengthened 
at the bottom in proportion as they were shortened at the top. 
Dresses have trains long enough to furnish material for other dresses." 
— Journal de Paris, 14 Fructidor, year VII (August 31, 1799). 

"The elegant world of Paris usually meets at Fi-ascati about ten 
o'clock, after the Opera. A staircase leads to a fine vestibule and 
thence into a hall surrounded with mirrors and adorned with festoons 
and artificial flowers. At the farther end is a fine statue of the 
Venus de Medicis. Near this statue opens an arcade which gives 
access to a suite of six magnificent rooms, superbly gilded, and fur- 
nished with mirrors and lustres of crystal cut in diamonds. Each 
room is like a home of light; here ices and coffee are taken. Com- 
munication between the rooms is by means of arcades, or by double 
doors ornamented with mirrors. The garden, small but artistic, has 
three alleys bordered with orange trees, acacias, and vases of roses; 
at the end is a tower built upon a rock with temples and rustic bridges; 
on each side are small arbors in a labyrinth. A terrace extends 
along the boulevard, of which it commands a view; it is bordered by 
beautiful vases of flowers, and terminates at each extremity in a sort 
of avenue decorated with mirrors." — Sir John Carr, The English 
in France after the Peace of Amiens, ch. IV, p. 181. 



182 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

Lolling in their chairs, as Debucourt shows us 
in his delightful Promenade publique, the " incred- 
ibles," swallowed in huge cravats, swathed in triple 
short waistcoats with bell-shaped buttons, trussed 
up in coats with velvet collars, were exchanging 
impertinences with the " merveilleuses," who were 
sjveeping the garden paths with their India mus- 
lins, lawns, gauzes, and taffetas, to such purpose 
that the next morning the alleys were as smooth 
and lustrous as satin. Between two campaigns the 
officers were most assiduous in showing themselves 
there, and the victors of Marengo accorded to them- 
selves the joy of dragging their sabres among so 
many pretty petticoats, more or less drawn up 
above colored silk stockings with embroidered clocks. 



* 



What successes must those young heroes have ob- 
tained whose exploits were already beginning to be 
legendary, and what glances did not the Frascati god- 
desses shoot at those heart-breakers, embrowned by 
the smoke of so many glorious combats ! There was 
a cavalry major, son of the dancer Gardel, who 
prided himself on bearing in his face " the finest 
sabre-thrust in the army," extending from one ear 
to the other ! It was to him that Marshal Lannes 
said later, " Monsieur, you are very fortunate ; I 
have been fighting fifteen years without being able 
to get as much." 

But there were not only festivities at Garchi; in 
the fine days of the Directory conspiracies were 



FRASCATI 



183 



openly hatched there. The police blotters of the 
Archives are full of the reports of agents denounc- 
ing plots. On the 13th Thermidor, year VI, the 
citizen minister is informed that " the assembly of 
royalists at Frascati the evening before was large 



~r>,„ ^^■,,,r.j/:/>. 




/ 



Yn 



y//'///////'/V' 



The Trimmings 

and bore a threatening character. It appears that 
the leaders who were expected have arrived — they 
have been heard to say to one another that the 
thing will not be long in coming off. It is almost 
certain that they are being organized into bodies 
of troops — that their depositories of arms are 



184 BYWAYS OF PxVRIS 

principally in the neighborhood of the Chaussee 
d'Antin. Their costume consists of a blue coat, 
blue velvet collars, three-cornered boat-shaped hat 
with a large cockade above the cord ; those destined 
for cavalry have a white cord." ^ " The cafe 
kept by Garchi, boulevard Montmartre, is denounced 
(21 Fructidor, year VI) as a meeting-place of royal- 
ists . . . the most seditious utterances against the 
government are heard there, and it may be re- 
marked that the most anti-revolutionary expressions 
of all came from the lips of those who have made 
a fortune under the present regime.^'' " There are 
innumerable reports about the play, for a gaming 
house has been opened in the former Hotel Lecoul- 
teux. Trente-et-un, biribi, pharaoh, are all the rage, 
all the gamesters who were disturbed in the neigh- 
borhood of the Palais-Royal (a report of the 4th 
Germinal, year IV, states that more than jifty gam- 
bling houses had been suppressed there) have fallen 
back upon Frascati.^ 

Judge of the tumult : conspiracies, gambling, 
drinking, merrymaking to such a point that a door 
stood always open between Frascati and the adjoin- 
ing house, " the Salon of Foreigners," and the two 
buildings became a vast disorderly house, where 
champagne flowed, cards were " passed," purchased 

1 F 7 6209, D. no. 3374. 

2 Archives nationales, F ^ 6162, no. 1381. 

^ In September, 1799, the authorities found themselves forced 
"to paste a slip of paper over that part of Garchi's program where 
he announced for the day's concert a 'Russian Dance and Turkish 
Air,' pointing out to him that it was not to be presumed that he 
could have the intention of informing the opposers of the Revolution 
that enemies of the Republic were celebrated in his establishment." 



FRASCATI 



185 



smiles were exchanged. Terrific fighting went on 
there. The 28th Nivose, year VI, Citizen Fournier, 
adjutant of General Augereau, was sabred there; 
blood flowed, the police tried to seize the combatants, 
who escaped by the window, and the officer, after 
having inspected the wounded, simply reported that 
" while sabre thrusts were being exchanged in the 




A Picture of "Good Style" 

apartments of Citizen Garchi, fighting was also going 
on in the street." ^ In 1815 a I\I. Varin, hatter, 

^ Paris, 28th Nivose, year VI of the F. R. one and ind. 
The Commissary of Police of the division of the Buttes des Moulins to the 
Commissaries-Administrators of the Central Office. 
Citizens: 

According to orders given by your letter of yesterday 
concerning the event which occurred yesterday in the house of Citizen 
Garchi, I forward such details of the affair as I have been able to 
procure : it was not possible to send them earlier, since I was obliged 
to procure accurate information from the justice of the peace. The 
following are the facts : 

Eight or ten persons, wearing greatcoats to conceal their uni- 



186 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

who had just left his last crowns upon the green 
cloth of the Trente-et-un, killed and robbed one of 

forms, were sitting around a large table, only two of them had no 
greatcoats over their uniform; two other persons seated themselves 
at a neighboring table; these last two also wore greatcoats. 

Citizen Fournier, adjutant of General Augereau, was in the same 
room with Citizens Fauve, Lamothe, and Rochechouard, As those 
last four were leaving Garchi's place, one of the men in greatcoats 
said: "There is a face which does not please me," and slapped one 
of the men who was with Citizen Fournier in the face; the latter 
at once attempted to stop him, but sabres were promptly drawn, 
and the epaulettes of Citizen Fournier were torn. At the same 
instant a general fray broke out, several citizens who were in Citizen 
Garchi's place were wounded, among others citizens Colaviere and 
Falassieux, who were very dangerously wounded, and have not yet 
been able to make their declarations before the justice of the peace. 
Citizen Jean-Pierre Faure, merchant, rue des Victoires No. 59, was 
wounded on the nose; it appears that he was the first to be struck. 
Citizen Antoine-Pierre-Remy-Alexandre Lierval, Commissioner of 
War, dwelling rue Pelletier No. 14, received blows, both sword and 
stick. Citizen Frangois-Xavier Quentin, dwelling rue Vivienne No. 
39, received three sabre cuts on the head, another on the cheek, a 
thrust in the right hand and one in the left arm; he declared that 
he had also been robbed of ten pieces of gold, twenty-four francs, and 
a silver watch. Citizen Jacque-Robert Choisy, gentleman, rue 
Neuve-des-Capucines No. 523, was clubbed, and his frockcoat was 
cut by a sword-thrust. 

Citizen Lamotte, dwelling rue Mont-Blanc No. 62, received a 
sabre blow on the head. Citizens Bassuet, dwelling rue Comartin 
No. 31, and Dubosq of rue Platriere received sabre blows in the 
street, into which they had been pursued. Three citizens whose 
names are not yet known jumped from the windows into the street 
and escaped, and Citizen Billard, butcher, rue de la Loi, received a 
sabre cut in the wrist when trying to help one of those who were 
attempting to escape by the windows. Citizen Billard being in the 
street. 

A grenadier's hat covered with oiled cloth and a short club with 
a leaded handle were found and are in the possession of the justice 
of the peace. Four persons were sent to the Staff office, but their 
names are not known. 

This, Citizens, is all that I have found it possible to ascertain 
about this affair; I shall simply repeat what I said in my former 
report, that it appears to be certain that while sabre cuts were being 
exchanged in the rooms of Citizen Garchi, others were also given in 
the street. The justice of the peace has not yet heard the witnesses, 



FRASCATI 



187 



his fellow citizens in an obscure alley of the garden 
. . . and all these things occurred in this lovely 
place ! A charming engraving by Debucourt shows 
the white and gold salons of Frascati, " shining with 




who are about twenty in number, nor has he yet learned the names 
of any of the prisoners. 

Citizen Garchi was not wounded, as was reported. 
Health and fraternity. 

Signed: Comminge 
Copy conforming to the original deposited. 
The Chief Secretary: 
(Illegible) 
Archives Nationales, F^ 6149^ No. 650. 



188 BYWAYS or PARIS 

a thousand lights." " Officials " in short jackets, 
powdered as under the old regime, brought sherbets 
and bowls of punch to pretty women seated at table 
with lively beplumed soldiers, or elegant civilians in 
high beavers." ^ 

* 
* * 

Years pass ; business is bad with Garchi. Lecoul- 
teux buys back the hotel for 501,000 francs, and 
the receiver of the Perrin playhouse holds the bank.- 
This lasted all through the time of public play- 
houses in France. Then two great buildings were 
erected on the ruins of the hotel and the garden ; 
shops were at a premium ; Buisson, tailor to the 
fashionable young men of Louis-Philippe's time, had 
one of them. Here also is a memory dear to dis- 
ciples of Balzac. From 1835 to 1844 a little room, 

^ "Play" began at four o'clock in the afternoon. At two in the 
morning there was a cold supper for the players. 

By the 15th Thermidor, year XI (August 3, 1803), Frascati had 
fallen from its ancient splendor. If we are to believe L'Observateur, 
while the shrubbery, the salons, and the ices of Frascati were making 
the sad experience of the inconstancy of public favor, the reputation 
of the Cafe Foy was daily increasing. — Aulard, Paris sous le 
Consulat, t. IV, p. 282. 

On the 15th Frimaire, year XII, the Gazette de France announced 
that Frascati, renowned for its ices, its summer assemblies, and its 
fireworks, was to be changed during the winter into an Athenaeum 
for dancing; men to subscribe, ladies to come by invitation. Strangers 
would contribute; Russian gentlemen would give a ball to the ladies 
of France. — lb., p. 558. 

This new organization of Frascati must have succeeded, for the 
Gazette de France of the 25th Floreal, year XII (May 15, 1804), says 
that the gay world goes to Frascati every evening, although the 
weather is not very warm. 

2 Perrin married his daughter to the nephew of General Desaix, 
and died insolvent after having been worth sixteen millions! 



FRASCATI 189 

nestled under the roof, neighbor to those appropri- 
ated to domestics, was reserved by Buisson for his 
customer the great Honore de Balzac. Here the 
master-writer, hunted down by his creditors, hid 
himself away when things became peculiarly difficult. 
Theodore Gautier here visited his gifted friend, 
whom he found " wrapped in his monachal robe and 
impatiently stamping up and down the blue and white 
carpet of a dainty mansarde, the walls of which were 
hung with Carmelite cambric." 

And the newsboys are crying, " The latest news ! 
ask for the latest news ! " in this very spot where 
so many memories dwell. 



THE FAUBOURG POISSONNIERE 



rriHE shopkeepers of the faubourg Poissonniere are 
m mournmg; the examinations of the Conser- 
vatory have emigrated (like mere ci-devant s) to the 
theatre of the Opera Comique. The time is no more 
when the famous artistic " All-Paris " — writers, ac- 
tors, academicians, journalists, singers, actresses or 
acteuses, mistresses of piano or pianists, amateurs or 
professionals — used to crowd into the tiny, suffo- 
cating hall of the celebrated art-mill of the faubourg 
Poissonniere. By nine in the morning every one 
would be at his post, glued — that is the right word 
— to the moleskin of an armchair. 

Not one vacant place ; attentive and sybilline 
critics, enigmatic judges, graver than the sworn 
feux-de-file of Fouquier-Tinville ; the crowded, criti- 
cal hall. Not an examination but brought together 
its faithful: even the clarinets, the trumpets, the 
bassoons, the trombones a coulisses have their public. 
These happy days are no more. Never again shall 
we see in their beauty the little gray court and the 
great vestibule with its rabble of " hopefuls," drown- 
ing in floods of lemonade the wreck of their illusions, 
brutally deflowered by an always unjust, always ill- 
willed, often ungrateful jury. Only the day of the 
distribution of prizes will bring again to the fau- 
bourg Poissonniere those picturesque files of sono- 



192 



BYWAYS OF PARIS 



rous, smooth-faced actors, those pretty actresses 
whom in every age Paris has adored. 

It is, then, not at the time of examinations that 
we should visit the Conservatoire. We will come 
back at the reopening of the classes, — there are 
many good hours to pass between this and that. 
We must be content to-day to spend some idle 




The Grange-Bateliere about 1810 

moments in the environs of the establishment of 
which Master Faure is the presiding genius ; be- 
lieve us, the picturesque history of this bit of Paris 
well deserves the telling. 

Until the second half of the seventeenth century 
the faubourg Poissonniere was simply pasture lands 
for cows and sheep, or market gardens of salads, 
carrots, artichokes, parsnips. 

C'est la qu'en maints endroits laissant errer ma vue 
Je vols croitre a plaisir I'oseille et la laitue. . . 



194 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

says Regnard, describing the view which he sees 
from his balcony at the end of the rue Richelieu. 

A brook, the brook of Menilmontant, once crossed 
these fields, forming the marshes where the people 
of Paris used to shoot duck and bustard and catch 
eels and frogs. This Menilmontant brook still runs, 




Under the Entrance to the Menus-Plaisirs 

but invisibly, some fifteen metres below the surface, 
and farther away passes under the Opera House. 
Beyond the fields and marshes turned the " thirty " 
windmills of Montmartre. 

Turgot's plan of 1739 shows this plain as in- 
habited. A few houses are grouped around an 
ancient chapel, the Chapel of Sainte-Anne, which 
by 1791 had disappeared. In the second half of 
the eighteenth century this desert began to be 



THE FAUBOURG POISSONNIERE 195 

populated. Farmer-general Bouret covered over the 
brook, put down sewers, drained the marsh, built 
houses ; the quarter of " New France " was created 
on a site once dangerous, because inhabited only by 
fugitives from justice. The barracks which were 
then built there still exist,^ and it was there that the 
battalion from Marseilles, sent to Barbaroux in 1792 
notwithstanding the king's veto, taught the people 




Longitudinal Section of the Theatre of the Conservatory 

of Paris the Marseillaise, composed the month before 
in Strasburg by an officer of engineers, Rouget de 

risie.- 

^ Extract from the proceedings of the Bonne- Nouvelle section, January 
14, 1793, the year II of the Republic 

The permanent General Assembly of the Bonne-Nouvelle section 
orders that two commissioners shall be nominated to betake them- 
selves to the barracks of the Marseillais, in order to make known to 
them the sentiments of fraternity which animate it [the General 
Assembly] and to invite them to make closer the ties which unite 
them to true patriots in the present difficult circumstances. It has 
named for this purpose Citizens Marquet, Rousset, Gonchon, and 
Folatre. 

Attested copy of the proceedings. 

Signed: the elder Masiglier, secretary. 

Archives of the Court of Aix, revolutionary business, file 498. 

2 Letter from a Federate of Marseilles. 

Paris, Saturday, January 19, 1790. 

Citizen President: 

I have the honor to send this present, to inform you that word 
has come from Marseilles that certain people in Paris have written to 
your Assembly that our Marseilles battalion has ill-treated the Pa- 



196 



BYWAYS or PARIS 



An alley, the alley au Berger (whence the rue de 
la Bergere), connects the chaussee de la Nouvelle 
France with the Montmartre Road. The Count de 
Charolais there built a " folly " for the beautiful 
Mile, de Courchamp ; small houses were dotted amid 




Interior op the Hall of the Conservatoire 

risians in all sorts of ways. . . . Well, do not believe it. . . . The 
perfect unity which reigns among them all is so true that day 
before yesterday, Thursday, the day of the judgment of the king 
(Louis XVI), all the federates, lately arrived in Paris from all depart- 
ments for the augmentation of the daily guard of the National 
Convention, all the federates who have long been here, and all good 
citizens who compose the National Parisian guard invited us all to a 
sort of civic festival, by a general coming together on the Place du 
Carrousel, in front of the Tuileries, and from thence to the Jacobins, 
where we all mutually embraced and most warmly embraced again, 
repeating our oaths of fidelity to the fatherland. The famous 
Marseillaise song was sung lustily, with so much unanimity of good 
comrades as made a touching sight. 

I would add that every evening we have a public assembly in our 



THE FAUBOURG POISSONNIERE 19T 

the grass. One of the Sansons — of the celebrated 
dynasty of Parisian hangmen — lived where now is 
No. 69, and his gardens covered the present rue 
Papillon. His six brothers, the " gentlemen " of 
Tours, Blois, Rheims, etc., used often to visit him 
and their aged grandmother. Martha Dubut pre- 
sided at the joyful love-feasts of this family of 
executioners. Hangman's attendants waited upon 
table; the honor of carving the meat was greatly 
coveted.^ 

When the Revolution broke out, this Poisson- 
niere quarter (the faubourg was successively called 
Chaussee Sainte-Anne, Chaussee de la Nouvelle 
France, and after 1789 faubourg Poissonniere, be- 
cause it led to the fish market at the Halles), half 
country, half town, seemed to offer asylum to all 
who were designated as victims of the revolutionary 
tempest. Rabaut-Saint-Etienne and his brother, de- 
nounced by IMarat on May 31, 1793, took refuge 

barracks, attended by all our sections, either as deputies or as private 
persons. 

Joseph Cremie, 
Volunteer in the 2d battalion of Marseilles in the 9th Company. 

Monday, January 21, at midday. 

As I think that all these details will give you pleasure I add this 
bit of paper to say that our battalion left the barracks at seven 
o'clock this morning to surround the Place Louis XV. 

Archives of the Court-house of Aix, revolutionary matters, packet 498. 

^ It is said that this numerous family of "questioners," hangmen, 
torturers, lived in great unity; it often occurred that the seven 
brothers met at the table of the eldest, who lived in a pretty large 
house in the rue Neuve-Saint-Jean in the faubourg Poissonniere. 
The aged Martha Dubut, the grandmother (who had married Charles 
Sanson on April 30, 1707), who lived to a very advanced age, presided 
at these singular love-feasts, when the aides waited on table. — 
Lenotre, La guillotine pendant la Revolutioii, pp. 117, 118. 



198 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

there with their friends the Payssacs. Betrayed, 
given over, arrested, one of them was guillo- 
tined with his hosts. Thermidor saved the second 
brother. A writ of accusation having been issued 
against the " Conventionnel " Dulaure, the historiog- 
rapher of Paris, he took refuge (October 22, 1793) 
in the faubourg Poissonniere, fleeing from his lodg- 
ing in Chaillot, where he knew that two gendarmes 
were watching for him. He passed the night with 
a terrified friend, and left his precarious shelter only 
to take refuge in a lodging close by in the rue 
Montmartre, " an obscure hovel with walls covered 
by littered paper." Hidden in this fetid hole, he 
could hear the news-venders in the street shouting 
the death of his colleagues. 

The Terror passed, gayety, mute for so many 
months, took its revenge ; Paris was shaken with a 
fever of pleasure. Closed religious houses, aristo- 
cratic mansions confiscated by the Revolution, their 
owners executed, emigrated, or in prison, were trans- 
formed into dance halls. Three months after the last 
tumbril of Thermidor, Paris possessed six hundred 
and forty-four public halls ! 

Worship of Terpsichore succeeded to worship 
of Marat. Merveilleuses in high buskins " hopped 
English " and the market-women {dames de la Halle) 
in their coarse wooden shoes beat the measure of the 
fricassee. Every street might in 1794 have put out 
the sign which in 1789 had been stuck between two 
paving stones upon the demolished ruins of the Bas- 
tile, " Dancing here " (" Ici Von danse "). Dancing 
in the faubourg Montmartre, at " Calypso's ball " 



THE FAUBOURG POISSONNIERE 



199 



(decent dress required) ; dancing at Guittet's on the 
Place Vendome ; dancing in the old Saint-Sulpice 
cemetery, where a rose-colored transparency an- 
nounced the " Zephyrs' ball " ; dancing in the fau- 
bourg Saint-Germain at the " Victims' ball " ; danc- 
ing for two sous in the popular guinguettes, but 




Entrance to the Conservatoire 

every " open-air ball has a room for changing to 
flesh-colored pantaloons " ; dancing in the rue Riche- 
lieu, in the rue de Bondy, in the rue de I'Echiquier, 
in the school of the Bibliophiles (rue de Verneuil), in 
the Jesuit novice-house, in the Saint-Sulpice Semi- 
nary ; dancing at the Palais-Royal, at the Elysee, 
at IMonceau, at Tivoli. At the Hotel de Longueville 



200 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

there were " twenty-three circles for country-dances, 
and two quadrilles of negresses frisking incognito 
in an alcove near the entrance." And, by a decree 
of the Central Bureau, bread at that time cost sixty 
francs a pound in assignats! 

The faubourg Poissonniere, it will be understood, 
had its own attractions. A master of amusements 
had installed on a broad open place shaded by trees, 
at No. 125 (a little below the present rue Delta), 
" Egyptian promenades and mountains," by way of 
rival to the Russian mountains at that time so very 
popular. Balloon ascensions and fireworks completed 
the joyful program. A few yards from this scene 
of festivity the bodies of the Swiss who had been 
killed at the taking of the Tuileries lay buried. 

On August 2, 1815, a dra.matic event occurred at 
No. 5 faubourg Poissonniere. General de Labe- 
doyere was arrested,^ the very day of his arrival at 
the house of a friend, whither Mme. de Labedoyere 
had come to meet him. The general was travelling 
under the assumed name of F. Huchet, merchant, 
bearing a letter of credit upon Philadelphia, signed 

1 Labedoyere, of the Army of the Loire, had provided himself 
with a passport for the United States and a letter of credit for 55,000 
francs, signed Ouvrard. But before leaving his native land he de- 
sired to see for the last time his young wife and his son. He took the 
diligence from Riom, arrived in Paris at ten o'clock on the evening 
of August 2, and drove to No. 5 rue du faubourg Poissonniere, the 
house of Mme. de Fontry, a friend of the Countess de Labedoyere. 
An hour later he was arrested on the denunciation of two scoundrels, 
said to have been officers, who had travelled with him. The 
matter was carried to a close with brutal swiftness. On August 14 
Labedoyere appeared before the first council of war, and at a single 
sitting was unanimously condemned to death. On the 15th, this 
appeal being rejected by the council of revision, he was shot. — Henry 
HoussAYE, 1815, La Terreur blanche, p. 508. 



THE FAUBOURG POISSONNIERE 



201 



Ouvrard. Denounced by certain travelling com- 
panions, Labedoyere had been followed. The little 
hotel bearing the number 5 stood where is now a 
hairdresser's shop, in a building occupied by Le 
Matiii newspaper. The police surrounded it. Labe- 
doyere, summoned to 
yield himself " in the 
king's name," replied 
that he had retired 
and could not go 
out ; the police scaled 
the wall, entered by 
the windows, seized 
the General, and 
brought him before 
the Council of War. 
Nothing could save 
this twcnty-nine- 
year-old hero from 
the sentence of death, 
insisted upon b}^ 
M. Violti, captain - 
reporter, a personal 
enemy of " Monsieur 
Bonaparte." Theresa ix 1867 

Labedoyere died heroically, shot on the Plain of 
Grenelle August 15th. 

A shop now occupies No. 18, formerly the Alcazar, 
a cafe-concert to which in the last year of the 
Second Empire the great artist Theresa attracted 
all Paris. Before 1870 people used to laugh at the 
eccentricities of Rien nest sacre pour un sapeur! 




202 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

(Nothing is sacred to an engineer) and C'est dans le 
nez que ga m'chatouille (It tickles me in the nose) ; 
shortly after they were weeping over the melancholy 
songs, Bon Gite, VHotesse, la Cocarde, which recalled 
the sufferings of the " Terrible Years." The remark 




Consulting Room, dating from the Directory 

of Got, dean of the Comedie-Frangaise, professor in 
the Conservatoire, is still remembered : " If you want 
to know with what emotion Rachel used to repeat the 
Marseillaise, go across the way to the Alcazar and 
listen to Theresa ! " 

Next door to the Conservatoire, at No. 19, is a 



THE FAUBOURG POISSONNIERE 208 

modest little house with a golden horseshoe framing 
in the sign " Blacksmithing." In the glass-covered 
court six horses were tethered, at the back was a 
forge with stout fellows in leather aprons shoeing 
stallions and mares. At the left, under the arch, is 
a consulting room, where a skilful veterinary treats 




A Salox, Time of the Dikectohy 

small animals, dogs, cats, parrots, even canaries. 
The picturesque sight! And how much the more 
surprising when one learns that this hospital for 
animals has found shelter in an exquisite little hotel 
dating from the Directory ! The decorations of the 
consulting room — a spread eagle amidst laurel 
crowns, fauns upholding a frieze — are sufficiently 
interesting ; the floor above is ravishing. The great 
drawing-room, empty now, still keeps intact its stamp 
of art and of antiquity. The coppers which en- 



204 



BYWAYS OF PARIS 



frame the mirrors or decorate the mahogany doors 
with their medallions painted by some pupil of 
Prud'hon, the delicate mythological entablatures 
above the doors, the brackets for lights, the green 
silk panels, the lustre, a crystal cascade falling from 
the caissoned ceiling, the floor of colored woods, — 




An Old Mansion, Faubourg Poissonniere 

all recall the period when eighteenth-century grace 
still survived, the perfect art of its marvellous carver- 
gilders, pupils of Gouthieres, Clodion, Caffieri — and 
we pause to dream in this dignified room where long 
ago men and women loved and were beloved. 

A glass door opens upon a balcony overhanging 
the glass court. In the distance is an old mansion 
of the time of Louis XVI, nearly in ruins. Nor is 
this all. Another surprise awaits us : the broad 
flooring of this balcony is made of a sepulchral stone 



THE FAUBOURG POISSONNIERE 205 

of the fifteenth century. We stand upon the effigy 
of a mitred bishop, whose hands are joined in 
priestly pose. The worn inscription may be seen 
on this side of the stone; the remainder, on the 
opposite side, is hidden in the wall! 

The cordial and distinguished owners of this pic- 
turesque house are kind enough to assure us, with 
such perfect grace as makes us profoundly grateful, 
that this precious stone will never leave the house 
where a fortunate accident has placed it, except to 
find final rest in the Carnavalet IMuseum ! Decid- 
edly, to-day's walk was a lucky one ! 



THE RUE RAYNOUARD 

ONE OF M. DE BALZAC'S DWELLINGS 

IVTarrow, zigzag, lined with ancient gray houses 
enhvened with certain clumps of green trees, 
rue Raynouard would seem not in the least out of 
place in Riom or Poitiers. There are few to pass 
by, still fewer are the carriages. Here and there 
betw^een the walls is a charming glimpse of the Seine 
valley, the distant buildings of Grenelle, the slopes 
of Meudon, and one can easily believe that, however 
unpleasing the fronts of the houses, the back win- 
dows must command a splendid panorama. 

It was indeed the custom of our ancestors to 
avoid most carefully the rooms nearest the street, 
malodorous and dusty, muddy and filled with refuse, 
— the street where trades-people of all sorts were 
crying their wares, — water-carriers, chimney-sweeps, 
charcoal men, dealers in vegetables, flowers, fish, hot 
mussels, baskets of fowls, old-clothes men, menders 
of cisterns, glaziers, match-venders, and all the rest. 
Loving comfort, quiet, calm, our grandparents usu- 
ally occupied the back rooms of their houses look- 
ing out upon the gardens, so numerous in those days 
and so beautiful in Paris and its environs. 

Up to the time of the annexation of the suburbs 
(1860), rue Raynouard formed a part of the village 
of Passy; in 1731 it appeared on Roussel's plan. 



208 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

Successively High Street, Grand Street, Street of the 
Francs-Bourgeois (Free Commoners; this because 
of the " Commoners " who settled there in the second 
half of the eighteenth century, attracted by the prox- 
imity of the " mineral waters of Passy," ^ the estab- 
lishment of which reached as far as the Seine), the 
High Street of 1831 became Low Street in 1840, 
for if it is " high " with regard to the river it is 
" low " in comparison with the highest parts of 
Passy. In 1867 it was definitively named rue Ray- 
nouard, in honor of the poet, author of " The Tem- 
plars," who died in No. 38.^ 

Illustrious men at one time or another dwelt in 
this street of various names. The dukes of Lauzun 
and of Saint-Simon were established in sumptuous 
abodes, the foundations of which still exist. Close 
at hand (at No. 21) lodged La Tour d'Auvergne, 
first grenadier of France, Desaix, Kleber, Lecourbe ; 
about 1796 Moreau used to visit his " cottage " here. 
Near at hand lived the Abbe Raynal, and also Abbe 
Prevost, author of the immortal Manon Lescaut. 
A delightful psychologist, the Abbe Prevost was a 
deplorable ecclesiastic, it appears, as witness the dia- 
logue exchanged in 1735 with the Prince de Conti : 

1 Rue Basse (Former and Later Mineral Waters) . The Low Street 
(rue Basse) on the left of M. Husson's pension leads to the Manor; 
the houses on the side toward the river enjoy a magnificent view. 
Two of these houses possessing springs of mineral water are known 
by the title "Old and New Waters"; their gardens are public. — 
Guide des Amateurs et des Etrangers voyageurs a Paris, Thiery, 
1787, t. I, p. 10. 

^ In 1819 a decree of the municipal council of Passy prohibited 
carriages "harnessed to more than one horse," to use the High Street, 
"the passing of wheeled vehicles being dangerous to those houses 
which are built above abandoned quarries." 



^^ 



o 

m 
w 



o 




210 BYAYAYS OF PARIS 

" What, abbe, you want to be my chaplain ? But 
I never hear masses ! " — " Nor do I ever say any, 
monseigneur ! " 

Benjamin Franklin sojourned for a time (1777 to 
1785) at No. 36; it was at No. 62 that he made 
his first experiments with the lightning-rod. Florian 
the fabulist and the song-writer Beranger also lived 
in this venerable street, but it is to the great Balzac 
that the rue Raynouard (at that time known as Low 
Street) owes the best part of its celebrity. 

At No. 47 an old mansion of very simple aspect, 
where in 1792 dwelt Louise Contat, the lovely ac- 
tress of the Comedie-Fran^aise, bears the following 
inscription on a marble tablet beside the door : " In 
this house lived H. de Balzac, 1842-1848." ^ In this 
house, or more probably back of this house, H. de 
Balzac shut himself up for six years in a modest 
pavilion behind the ancient dwelling of Louise 
Contat. 

The j anitor, busy with his watchmaking work, bids 
us go down two flights of stairs. The invitation 
seems surprising, till we recall to mind certain in- 
dications handed down by Mme. de Surville, Balzac's 
sister, Theophile Gautier, Gerard de Nerval, and 
Leon Gozlan, his friends, and make our way down 
the slippery stairs, aided by the cast-iron bannister, 
on which the hand of the master used to rest. 

We reach a small court. At the farther end, be- 
hind a clump of spindle trees and lilacs, is a small 

1 Mr. Frederic Lawton, a fervent admirer of Balzac, denies this 
statement. "Balzac went to the Passy house in December, 1840, 
and left it in the spring of 1847, apparently in April." Mr. Lawton 
is probably right. 











de Jersai/lt 
{7i/viillaf fSehl 
Cimetiere (Av 
a^ (du/ — 
CorneiUe ffmf. 
Groix (de-kv) 

D 

Dau'pTtine /^/k 

Demi Lxme' (d. 
Despremicc fA 
Dmiie fdu J. 

Dasne. 

J}upont 

J?uroa '■ 



£qlue(d^rX. 
£:<jput (del').-. 
^mpavuriAa, d 



Extract from the Plan of the sixteenth arrondissement of the City of Paris, 
1860, published in the ''Paris Nouveau" of Emile de Labedolliere. 



212 BYAVAYS OF PAEIS 

house of one story above the ground floor ; there are 
green blinds and a 3^ellow door pierced by two 
round light-holes — Balzac's house ! 

It was not always so easy to gain access to this 
retreat. The great writer used to hide in order to 
work in peace, and escape the creditors who for so 
long a time were the bane of his existence ; it used to 
require a stiff assault to carry this refuge. Most 
complicated passwords were exchanged. After hav- 
ing assured the porter, " suspicious as a bolt " 
(verrou), that " the season of plums had come," one 
was permitted to descend the first flight. There, a 
portress, summoned by a bell, checked the audacious 
visitor, not unmasking the lower stairway until 
thoroughly assured that " one was bringing the 
Bruges laces." Once beyond the second staircase, it 
became necessary to impart to a trusty Cerberus 
" The best news of Mme. Bertrand's health " ; and 
then at last one was admitted to the presence of Mme. 
de Brignols, the master's housekeeper, " a lady of 
some forty years, stout, quiet, nun-like, a convent- 
portress, the last word of the domiciliary enigma." 
Mme. de Brignols alone was empowered to open to 
the initiated the door of M. de Balzac'^ -study. 

Moved with deep respect, we enter this humble 
abode, of 600 francs' annual rent, where for six 
years the supreme analyst of the human heart la- 
bored night and day, Messrs. de Royaumont and 
Leon Maillard, receiving us with their usual graceful 
courtesy, did the honors of this place of which they 
are the pious guardians. In the salon, adorned with a 
fine bust of Balzac by Marquet de Vasselot, their 



THE jfeUE RAYNOUAPtD 213 

devoted care has brought together some most rare 
souvenirs. Two frames enclose the heroes of the 
Comedie Humaine: Father Grandet, Bixiou, Camu- 
sot, Rastignac, the cure of Tours and the Country 
Doctor, Beatrix, Mme. Marneffe, Honorine, Pierrette, 




Balzac 

Tulhe, Esther Gobsek, Mme. de Maufrigneuse, and 
Mamma Vauquer. And here are photographs of 
several of Balzac's abodes, the hotel of the rue For- 
tunee (now rue Balzac), where he died, an insurance 
policy signed with his glorious name, several carica- 
tures, a sketch by David d'Angers, a fragment of 
marble (the gift of M. Paul Bourget), a hideous 
inkstand in the form of a padlock, — and that is 



214 



BYWAYS OF PARIS 



all! Insufficient collection, which disciples of Balzac 
will assuredly set their hearts upon enriching. We 
visited the four little low-ceilinged rooms where lived 
and worked the gifted scene-painter of the " Human 
Comedy.*' 




Balzac's Garden 



From this corner cupboard, narrow, cheerless as 
a convent cell, " its walls covered with pictures with- 
out frames and frames without pictures," came all 
those masterpieces : " The Muse of the Department," 
"Eve and David," "The Splendors and the Mis- 
eries of Courtesans" (1843), "Beatrix," "Modest 




Balzac's House 
Exit by the rue Berton 



216 BYWAYS or PARIS 

Mignon" (1844), "The Peasants," "The Village 
Priest" (18-15), "The Last Incarnation of Vau- 
trin" (1846), and finally in 1847 "Cousin Pons," 
" Cousin Betty " — and we forget the rest ! 

Yet these empty rooms have not the gift to touch 
our hearts ; they have been too recently " done 
over," they are too ripoline; the mystery of dark 
corridors and complicated staircases affects us quite 
differently. That scenery is not artificially gotten 
up ; those are the true accessories of the drama of 
which poor Balzac himself was the suffering hero. 
This little house of two entrances, these secret exits, 
these traps still hidden under the tiling, the jealous 
" guard " kept by faithful friends around his 
" cache," enabled him to make his escape from 
bailiffs, tipstaves, creditors who at any moment 
might be in upon him. Poor great man, turn- 
ing night into day and day into night, going to 
bed at six in the evening, rising at midnight and 
writing till morning ! reduced to concealment and 
flight to avoid Clichy and arrest ! 

It is all infinitely sad — and yet this little garden, 
thirty metres long by fifteen wide, upon which open 
two doors and all the windows, is charming. Im- 
agine a modest priest's garden, shaded by lilacs, a 
plum tree, a tamarisk, a mountain ash, a few acacias, 
bordered by a vine-shaded terrace, overhanging the 
amazing rue Berton, — forest alley confined between 
two gray walls. 

Balzac loved his little garden. Mme. de Surville 
tells us that he " sowed morning glories all along the 
wall, — he would watch them open in the morning, 



THE RUE RAYNOUARD 217 

admiring their colors, going into ecstasies over the 
colors of certain insects." This is the familiar bucolic 
farmer Balzac whose figure we evoke, in his long 
white monkish gown, confined at the waist by a rope, 
pacing these narrow box-bordered alleys, between 
chrysanthemums and yellow dahlias, and these purple 
flowers around which the bees are flying in swarms. 
A few flourishing grapevines have survived, and M. 
de Royaumont kindly invites us to return when 
they are ripe. To think of harvesting Balzac's 
grapes ! 

It seems as if we could see him, that great Balzac, 
leaning over his terrace, gazing with " those large 
eyes, brown flecked with gold, like those of a lynx " ^ 
upon this familiar view, the old country lane, the 
clumps of trees in Mme. de Lamballe's park, their 
tops rising above his head, the valley of the Seine, 
the chimneys of far-away Grenelle standing out 
against the golden sky. . . . 

From this ruinous arbor, overrun with clematis 
and viburnum, the sublime visionary introduced his 
friends into that imaginary world which he had 
created. Every-day events had no power to move 
him — he preferred his dreams. " Do you know," 
he cried one day, " whom Felix de Vandenesse is 
going to marry? A Miss de Grandville. It is an 
excellent marriage. The Grandvilles are rich, not- 
withstanding all that Mile, de Bellefeuille has cost 
that family." ^ One of his intimates says that on 

1 Mme. de Surville, Honore de Balzac, p. 201. 

2 Id. p. 97. 



218 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

certain days Balzac would have " disconcerted a 
thunderbolt." ^ 

We descend the two flights which lead from the 
pavilion to rue Berton, and find ourselves in a sort 
of farmyard, where carts repose with upturned shafts, 
three cats are curled up asleep in the sun, fowls 
are pecking about a manure heap. Two women 
ambushed behind some fuchsias stare at us, and a 
stout motherly woman in a white cap smiles upon 
us. She knew M. de Balzac ; the great man had 
trotted her on his knee some sixty years ago. " He 
was so kind, so generous ! My husband, who was in 
his service, wore for a long time a worn fur coat 
that the master brought from Russia. And how 
original ! Sometimes, very early in the morning, 
M. de Balzac would come home by the wagon that 
comes to the Bonshommes barrier, bareheaded, in 
slippers and dressing-gown — he had been walking 
all night, hap-hazard, across plains and woods. If 
he did n't find himself at daybreak in the Place du 
Carrousel ! So he climbed into the coucou that comes 
to Passy. And as he had gone out without money, 
the conductor was forced to give him credit ! 

" Mme. de Brignols, who was his housekeeper, 
lodged in that room the window of which you see 
at the right. She watched over him with delicate 
and pious care. She had to, indeed, for M. de Balzac 
took no care of anything. All his thoughts were in 
his work. Yet his coffee did give him some thought; 

^ Leon Gozlan, Balzac en Pantoufles, p. 24. (He drank only 
water, ate little meat, but, on the other hand, consumed quantities 
of fruit. Id. p. 32.) 



THE RUE RAYNOUARD 219 

he gave my grandmother the addresses of three mer- 
chants who sold such coifee as he liked. He hhnself 
mixed the three sorts, with extreme and minute care. 
My grandmother wrote the three addresses in her 
kitchen book, and we should have given great pleas- 
ure to M. de Spoelberch de Lovenjoul if we could 
have found that little book." ^ 

We take leave of the good woman who as scout 
made one of the faithful phalanx who had taken 
upon themselves to circumvent " insolent creditors 
and doubtful visitors." Passing through the door- 
way which opens aslant upon the rue Berton, we 
return to Paris, dreaming of that little garden so 
full of great memories. Was it haunted.'^ What a 
ballroom for a quadrille of spirits under the moon- 
light — the elegant phantoms of Maxime de Trailles, 
Lucien de Rubempre, Philippe Bridau, and Eugene 
de Rastignac, their partners the love-lorn shades of 
Tullie, Florine, Mme. du Val-Noble, and the Baroness 
Delphine de Nucingen (nee Goriot) ! 

1 Story told to M. Jean Lefranc by the granddaughter of Mme. 
Barbier, Balzac's landlord. {Le Temps, May 18, 1908.) 



THE PASSAGE OF THE PANORAMAS 



Tn the last century " passages," and especially the 
Passage of the Panoramas, had considerable vogue. 
One needs but to run through the newspapers, an- 
nuals, memoirs of those days, to recognize their 
prodigious success. " Elegances " met there by ap- 
pointment, fashion held its court there ; it was " the 
Eldorado of the idle, the indifferent." This infatu- 
ation arose from many easily explicable causes. In 
the eighteenth century Paris had been struck with 
amazement by the galleries of the Palais-Royal, but 
base intrigues, gaming houses, a hundred ambiguous 
industries flourishing around the gambling houses had 
at last driven away peaceful folk and honest women. 

The opening in 1800 of the Passage of the Pano- 
ramas came in the nick of time to shelter the fashion- 
ables who had been disgusted with the Palais-Royal. 
Carriages being extremely rare, pretty Parisian 
women did not shrink from walking in the streets. 
This long, single gallery (its annexes came later), en- 
closed with glass, light, bordered with luxurious 
shops, seemed made for their walks, and moreover 
offered them a sheltered passage to the boulevard. 

At that time the rue Vivienne ended at the 
garden of the convent of the " Daughters-of-Saint- 
Thomas " (upon which in 1807 a temporary stock- 



222 BYWAYS OF PAEIS 

exchange was installed which became definitely fixed 
in 1826). In 1809 the street was prolonged to rue 
Feydeau; not till 1824 did it reach the boulevard. 
Constructed upon the dependences of the Hotel 
Montmorency, — a superb high doorway of which 
may still be seen at No. 10 rue Saint-Marc, — the 
Passage of the Panoramas was a rival of the gor- 
geous public gardens of Frascati (at once ice- 
cream saloon and gambling house), where such 
beautiful fetes champetres were given. Those gar- 
dens extended from the rue Richelieu to the present 
Passage. It was there that in the best days of the 
Directory and the Consulate gathered the army of 
the " incroyables," the staff officers of the musca- 
clins, the " camp of good style," all the fine flower 
of the contra-revolutionary clubs. Under the trees, 
lighted by festoons of colored lamps, they held their 
circles while eating ices, to " abominate " the gov- 
ernment, depreciate the assignats, calumniate " la 
Cabarru," applaud the last romance of Geoffroy, 
who proclaimed Voltaire a stupid and Rousseau a 
madman. The " beloved ones " gave " fan-manifes- 
tations," — the fans, bought for 180 to 200 livres 
each at Mme. Despaix's, adorned with iveeping wil- 
lows, the ingeniously interlaced branches of which 
outlined the profiles of the " Martyrs of the Temple." 
They discussed the victories of that " little Bona- 
parte," of whom " much was hoped," and concluded 
that in France " everything may be done with bayo- 
nets, except sit down upon them." Then humming 
the Reveil du Peuple^ the " aimables," adorned with 
perruques, " the color of the queen's hair," would 



^ 





^- 




^ > 


> 




o 




H 


^5 


w 


;> ^ 


< 


$^c 


M 

IS 


r w 


^ 


'^" a 


o 


^w 


a 


^^ 


IS 
td 


|§ 





^ G 


tr' 


^ ^ 


<! 


^ w 


>- 
O 


f^ 


3! 


^ ^ 




1 o 




'^ c/) 



^ 




224 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

go upstairs to risk a few bundles of assignats in 
the neighboring gaming rooms. 

Such were the first who patronized the Passage 
of the Panoramas, and such also were the idlers of 
the boulevard Montansier, which was beginning to 
be populated. In 1807 Montansier, eager to leave 
the gloomy Prado hall (opposite the Palais de 
Justice), whither his gay company of the Palais- 
Royal had been forced to betake themselves, urged 
the architect Cellerier to hasten the completion of 
his new theatre " the Varieties." Recalling the 
memories of an almost centenarian, Father Dupin 
(who died in 1887), the regretted master Ludovic 
Halevy has given us a very picturesque sketch of 
the boulevard about 1808 : " It was almost the 
country. Not a single one of those great mansions 
which you see now was there ; nothing but little 
shops with a single floor above, a few wretched 
wooden barracks, and the two little panoramas of 
the Seine and Boulogne. No sidewalk, the street was 
of earth beaten hard between two rows of great 
trees ; country, in fact it was the country." ^ 

1 Saturday, July 1, 1871. 

On the porch of the Varieties I met the most alert and the young- 
est little old man in the world, Father Dupin. He does n't tell his 
age, but in the theatre he was the elder of Scribe; and Scribe would 
be over eighty to-day. He has only a vague memory of things that 
occurred under the monarchy of July, but he has perfectly clear and 
precise impressions of all the little dramatic and literary events of the 
first twenty years of this century. 

"When did you first go up the three steps of this porch .f*" "The 
evening the theatre was opened." "What year was that.?" "What 
year.f* I don't quite remember. I know that it was summer, mid- 
summer, under the First Empire. I stood in line, there, in the 
broiling sun, the whole afternoon." 

Father Dupin remembers nothing but the theatre; for him 1815 




"^-/^ 






Chinese Pavilion belonging to the House of the Duke of 
Montmorency, boulevard Montmartre 



226 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

These panoramas — two wooden towers lighted 
from above — gave their name to the Passage and 
contributed to its fortunes. Imported into France 
from England by the American Robert Fulton, 
these panoramas had immense success between 1799 
and 1831. A select group of remarkable painters, 
Pierre Prevost, Daguerre, Bouton, Cochereau, exe- 
cuted for it " panoramic views " of Toulon, Tilsit, 
the camp of Boulogne, Amsterdam, Rome, Naples, 
the battle of Navarino, etc. The spectators, seated 
in the centre of the rotunda upon a platform sur- 
rounded by a balustrade, dominated the view on all 
sides. Each canvas was 97 metres in circumference 
and nearly 20 metres high. The effect was pro- 
digious ; the illustrious but captious David ex- 
claimed : " One can make studies from nature at 
these panoramas," and Chateaubriand, in 1829, said 
in the preface to his " Itinerary from Paris to 
Jerusalem " ; " The illusion was perfect ; I recognized 
at the first glance the monuments which I had in- 
dicated. Never was traveller put to so severe a 
test. I could not wait for Jerusalem and Athens 
to be transported to Paris to convince myself of 
its truth or falsity. Confrontation with witnesses 
proved favorable: my exactitude was found so great 
that fragments of the Itinerary have served by 



is not the year of the Restoration of the Bourbons: it is the year of 
the first presentation of L'Echarpe blanche, ou le Retour a Paris, 
one of his own pieces; it is the year of the first representation of 
M. de la Jobardiere ou la Revolution impromptue, another of his own 
pieces. He knows of the history of our country only so much as he 
has been able to put into songs. — Notes et Souvenirs de Ludovic 
Halevy (1871-72), p. 113. 



THE PASSAGE OF THE PANORAMAS 227 

way of program and popular explanation of the 
pictures in the panoramas." 

The success of these panoramas, — strongly re- 
sembling the present fortunes of the cinematograph, 
— the vogue of the Varieties Theatre (opened in 
1807), the perfect taste which had presided at the 
arrangement of the attractions, the choice of shops 
to be installed there, — all these conspired to the 
success of the new Passage. In addition, the boule- 
vard, far from being abandoned as in former days, 
became, after 1815, the centre of fashionable life. 
Sumptuous buildings were erected there, the owners 
taking care not to follow the example of the Opera 
Comique, which fronted upon a narrow place, owing 
to the indignant protests which the " King's Come- 
dians " of 1782 made to the architect Heurtier, 
horror-stricken at the idea of being confounded 
with the plebeian " boulevard comedians." On 
sunny days the boulevard (the suggestive word then 
referred solely to the space included between rue 
Montmartre and the Chaussee d'Antin ; outside of 
this, no salvation : toward the Madeleine was the 
desert, toward the Bastille was vulgarity), the 
Boulevard, then, with a very large B, was covered 
with rush-bottomed chairs, where the " Parisian 
gentry," under the shadow of the great trees, 
watched " the passers-by passing." " Daumonts," 
" eight-springs," tilburys, gigs crowded the Chaus- 
see ; cavaliers caracoled, followed at twenty paces 
by their jockeys, or threw the reins of their Eng- 
lish horses to their " tiger as big as a fist " in order 
to speak to some beautiful woman shaded by the 



228 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

laces of her cabriolet hat. The young men, " truly 
Buckingham," ^ the dandies, the lions, the fre- 
quenters of the Parisian cafe carrying audacity to 
the pitch of smoking in public ! These things were 
going on about 1835. 

Every quarter hour a heavy yellow vehicle per- 
ambulated the boulevard — the Bercy-Madeleine 
omnibus.^ In the days when Sunday rest held sway 
over Paris, loungers still came in crowds to the 
Boulevard and the Passage of the Panoramas. 
Musset describes it in Mardoclie : 

Un dimanche (observez qu'un dimanche la rue 
Vivienne est tout a fait vide, et que la coliue 
Est aux Panoramas ou bien au boulevard). 

This explains the success of the passage.'^ The 
most elegant shops of Paris were installed here. 

^ Marcel Boulanger, Les Dandys, p. 205. 

^ Folk made the best of faults which they deemed inevitable, no 
capital was exempt from such. And, after all, notwithstanding its 
blemishes and its excrescences, this Paris surely had its charm! 

Most of its streets were narrow and without sidewalks. One 
needed to beware of vehicles even on the steps of the shops, under 
the porte-cocheres, or even on the "safety-points" planted here and 
there for that purpose. In fact, when the circulation was most 
active, the foot passenger ran fewer risks walking along the middle of 
the street than nowadays in crossing a boulevard. ^ The boulevard 
in those days saw only one omnibus in fifteen minutes, plying 
between the Place de la Madeleine and that of the Bastille, where 
there was so little danger of being run over that I have seen a curious 
crowd gathered around a cudgel-player in front of the Madeleine, in 
the very place where the refuge is now placed. On the Place of the 
Bastille in those days I used to roll my hoop in all peace around the 
Elephant and the Column of July. — Victorien Sardou, Preface to 
Les Coins de Paris, Georges Cain, Flammarion. 

^ There (in the Passage of the Panoramas) no anxiety about your 
breakfast. Veron, the magnificent Veron, will send a chocolate to 
your very bedside. Then for dinner, you may choose between 
Masson and Prosper. The former will associate you with all gas- 




The Passage of the Panoramas, about 1808 
From a contemporary water-color 



230 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

There Duvelleroy displayed his fans ; Marquis sold 
his celebrated chocolates and perfumed teas ; the 
pastry-cook Felix his warm little macaroni patties, 
his unctuous " lemon buns," his incomparable Malaga 
wine; the jeweller Janisset spread out his finery; 
Madame Vincent exhibited her " Modes, the latest 
novelties " ; Jean Maria Farina perfumed the 
passers-by with his " true Cologne-water," and, 
finally, Susse kept his celebrated gallery of gro- 
tesques, the Charges of Dantan.^ The gifted stat- 
uary Dantan (whose complete works are one of the 
joys of the Carnavalet Museum) modelled nearly 
every week from 1827 to 1845 some caricature of a 
celebrity of the day, writer, comedian, painter, or 

tronomical delights for a franc sixty centimes a meal; the latter will 
distribute wonders of his kitchen for no less than a round piece of 
forty sous; he does n't care for effigies. 

Now, if you are interested in the chapter of distractions, I can 
offer you a reading room, a music dealer, and a caricaturist in whose 
show window you may study the transmutation into plaster of all 
the illustrious characters of the period. — Les Passages de Paris en 
1830 (Paris, or the Book of the One Hundred and One), t. X, p. 51. 

^ The statuettes and the modelled clays of Daumier are almost 
the only examples of sculptured caricatures worthy of mention in this 
nineteenth century. Dantan devoted himself to the study of con- 
torsioned resemblances. All his contemporaries took their turn, 
writers, painters, orators, simple illustrators of a fleeting fact. They 
were found amusing; exaggerations greater or less of certain fads, 
with puns in rebus inscribed on their pedestals. It is difficult to-day 
to understand their vogue. Yet if these plaster casts (these bronzes, 
even, for many of them had the honor of the foundry) go down to 
future generations, they will be glad to know that Paganini was one- 
sided beyond measure, that Dumas and Hugo were at this period 
the handsome melancholy dandies which are seen here. Still, scholars 
will do well not to exact from Dantan too accurate proportions, nor 
to measure the facial angles of great men according to these comic 
statues, which, after all, are all that more than one has been able 
to extract from human ingratitude. — UArt du Rire et de la Carica- 
ture, Arsene Alexandre, p. 233. 



THE PASSAGE OF THE PANORAMAS 231 

sculptor, and all Paris rushed to the show windows of 
Susse's shop to shout with laughter at these infi- 
nitely witty extravagances. Each in his turn — 
Balzac, Tamberlik, Carl and Horace Vernet, the 
elder Dumas, Rossini, P. J. Mene, Frederick Le- 
maitre, Vestris, Victor Hugo, Paganini, Berlioz — 
was " exaggerated " by Dantan, who complicated 
his labors with the rebus traced on the pedestal. 




"Letter-head" op the House of Susse about 1835 
Showing a few " extravagances " of the younger Dantan 

To guess the rebuses and admire the statuettes took 
time, and loungers gathered at this point to such 
a degree that on certain days a special police force 
had to be stationed here. 

It was in the Passage of the Panoramas that in 
January, 1817, was made the first official experi- 
ment of lighting by gas. Who would believe it 
to-day.? The attempt failed! The Parisian people, 
always wedded to routine, admired but hesitated 
long. They trembled before the dangers of this 



232 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

mode of illumination, they feared it would " vitiate 
the air," kill the trees, blacken the pictures in the 
cafes, asphyxiate people, attract the cholera ! It 
was not until 1830 that the cause of " hydrogen gas " 
was won before public opinion, the illumination of 
the rue de la Paix on January 1st of that year 
being a perfect success. The inventor of illuminat- 
ing gas, Philippe Lebon, engineer of roads and 
bridges, — a benefactor of humanity, — could neither 
enjoy nor profit by his marvellous discovery. On 
December 2, 1804, the very day of the coronation 
of the Emperor Napoleon, Philippe Lebon was as- 
sassinated in the Champs Elysees by mysterious 
murderers of whom not the slightest trace was ever 
discovered. Not until 1811 did the Emperor accord 
a pension of 1200 francs to the widow of this great 
Frenchman. In 1814 the minor son of Lebon was 
deprived of his father's patent, which no one had 
thought to renew ! ^ 

1 Philippe Lebon was born May 29, 1767. He was thirty years 
old, and was teaching mechanics at the school of Roads and Bridges 
in Paris, when the idea occurred to him to study the nature of the 
gases produced by the combustion of wood. Almost immediately, 
with extraordinary reflective sagacity, he found the principle upon 
which is founded the fabrication of carbonated hydrogen gas. 

He perfected his methods and on the 6th Vendemiaire, year VIII 
(September 28, 1799), he took out a patent for the invention. 

Lebon was established in the rue Saint-Dominique-Saint-Germain, 
in the ancient Hotel Seignelay, and there he constructed certain 
apparatus which he called thermolamps, seeking to utilize at once 
the production of heat and of light. 

All Paris cried. Miracle! 

It has been said with reference to his assassination on the evening 
of December 2, 1804, that certain men of Cadoudal's band, still in 
Paris, mistook him for the Emperor and put him to death. 

In January, 1817, the Passage of the Panoramas was lighted; a 
society was formed, which was compelled to wind up in 1819 after 



THE PASSAGE OF THE PANORAMAS 238 

The Second Empire saw the glory of the Passage 
of the Panoramas. Not only were its shops still 
gorgeous and much patronized, but the Varieties 
Theatre had its signal triumph with the remark- 
able repertory of Offenbach, It was the never-to- 
be-forgotten time when the pianos of the Golden 
House of the Cafe Riche, of Tortoni and Brebant 
seemed to open spontaneously to play the waltzes 
of the Grand Duchess, the Letter of Perichole, the 
couplets of Blue Beard. Moreover these charming 
pieces were sung by the prettiest women in Paris, 
and the artists' exit from the theatre opened upon 
one of the galleries of the Passage. This is what 
explains better than all else the presence of the most 
elegant " clubmen " of the epoch. More methodi- 
cally, more unweariedly than the worthy guardian 
charged with its oversight, the adorers of all these 
delightful artists " made " the Passage — and the 
race of these peripatetics, far from dying out, con- 
tinued to increase and multiply, for to the pieces of 
Offenbach, Meilhac, Halevy, succeeded others, no 
less exquisite, no less Parisian, no less elegant, of 
Donnay, Lavedan, Capus, De Flers, and De Cail- 
lavet, of De Croisset. Furthermore, each year 
Manager Samuel, whose legendary straw hat shel- 
ters a brain more ebullient than the crater of Etna, 
mobilizes for his " Review " whole battalions of 
lovely creatures whose comings and goings revolu- 
tionize the Passage. 

having put gas into a small part of the Luxembourg and around the 
Odeon. — Paris, ses organes, ses fonctions ; Maxime Du Camp, t. V, 
p. 290. 



234 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

Lucky Passage ! Several of the most artistic 
Parisian merchants have installed their industries 
here. Here it is that Dewambez and Stern provide 
the entire globe with impeccable visiting cards, ele- 
gant letter paper, astounding menus, as carefully 
wrought as the pages of a missal ! The fan-maker 
Duvelleroy is more fashionable than ever. Marquis's 
old chocolate shop is never empty, and the show- 
cases of bookseller Rahir offer to book-lovers an 
admirable selection of rare books and precious en- 
gravings. Everything, even to the noise of the im- 
pact of balls, executed, with what maestria! by the 
professors of the " Cure Academy," adds its sug- 
gestive note to the thousand memories assembled in 
this picturesque Passage. 

Who will wonder, after all this, that " The Pano- 
ramas " keeps its vogue? Such pretty trinkets, such 
pretty women are here, I perfectly well understand 
how there should be superficial minds who prefer all 
this to mathematics ! 



LA RUE DE LA HARPE 

THE STREET OF THE HARP 

NEAR the pot-houses sheltered under the shadow 
of Saint-Severin, the rue de la Harpe is to-day 
without celebrity. Here and there a few finely 
sculptured porticoes, a few sumptuous window- 
casings, half a score of splendid stone screens (at 
Nos. 35 and 45), balconies of wrought iron sur- 
viving the raids of antiquarians bear witness to the 
splendor of a forgotten past. At present shabby 
shops, vague creameries, a bakeshop, certain hotels, 
if not blind, certainly weak-eyed, a " colonial liquor 
saloon " (" served by beautiful girls from Sene- 
gal "), emphasize the present low estate of this 
poor street, overshadowed as it is by the boulevard 
Saint-Michel and the boulevard Saint-Germain. 

The rue de la Harpe is the victim of the Hauss- 
manization of Paris. In 1855, the time of the great 
municipal works decreed by Baron Haussmann, the 
piercing of the boulevards Saint-Germain and Saint- 
Michel wrought the disappearance of three quarters 
of the buildings which for centuries had made its 
glory. Formerly it began at the rue de la Huchette ; 
but far from ending at Cluny Square, the rue de 
la Harpe extended as far as the old Place Saint- 
Michel, to the point where the rue Monsieur-le- 



236 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

Prince j oins the boulevard — that boulevard which 
follows the former line of the demolished street. 
What we now know of it is only the insignificant 
fragment of what it once was.^ 

The cartulary of the Sorbonne shows that as 
early as 1272 there were schools in this street, which 
drew its name from a signboard bearing King David 
playing the harp. In the course of time these 
schools became colleges ; in 1789 the rue de la 
Harpe possessed no less than seven colleges : the 
college of Dainville (between the rue des Cordeliers 
and the rue Pierre-Sarrazin), the old College of 
Justice, and Harcourt College (on the site of the 
Lycee Saint-Louis), the colleges of Bayeux, Nar- 
bonne, and Seez (on the passage of the boulevard 
itself, before the Lycee Saint-Louis), and the Cluny 
College, where the great painter Louis David had 
his studio, and whither, on January 4, 1808, the 
Emperor Napoleon came in great pomp to visit 
that chef-d'oeuvre, " the picture of the Coronation " 
(Place de la Sorbonne, opposite Harcourt's Cafe, 
the illustrious name of which alone suffices to bring 
up all this past). 

A fine church dedicated to Saint Cosmo stood at 

1 Formerly the rue de la Harpe was divided into two parts, from 
the rue Saint-Severin to that of the Cordeliers and from that point 
to the Saint-Michel Gate; it was sometimes known as rue Saint- 
Cosmo, sometimes as rue aux Hoirs (heirs) d' Harcourt. Above 
the Porte Saint-Michel, on the left on leaving the city, was built the 
Parloir aux Bourgeois (Commoners' Parlor), a place of assembly for 
municipal officers. It was then called Porte d'Enfer (Hell Gate). 
It was on the occasion of the birth of a daughter to Isabella of Bavaria, 
January 11, 1394, whom Charles VI named Michelle, that the Porte 
d'Enfer, repaired and embellished, received the name Porte Saint- 
Michel. — Jaillot, Recherches sur Paris, t. V, p. 81. 




Tomb of the Cardinal de Richelieu 



238 BYWAYS or paris 

the angle of the present rue Racine ; and finally, at 
No. 49 of the rue de la Harpe, at the end of a 
short alley, were the grandiose ruins of the 
Thermes."^ 

The great hall of the palace of the Emperor 
Julian was utilized in the fifteenth century ; pro- 
vincial comedians gave plays there; later, in 1691, 
the " public carts " going to Laval put up there 
at the sign of the " Iron Cross " ; in the middle 
of the eighteenth century the same sign sheltered 
a coach office. A bathing establishment had been 
contrived in the ancient thermoe, and the citizens 
of 1789 raised gilliflowers and hollyhocks in the 
rubbish of the old Roman palace. 

When the Revolution broke out, the rue de la 
Harpe was in the height of its glory. The Wattin 
of 1789 — which was the Hachette Almanac of 
that time — tells us that over and above its seven 
colleges it could boast of possessing " 190 doors, 
3 notaries, the office of the ' Court Gazette ' (at 
No. 20), the surgeon Desault's classes in physi- 
ology (at No. 151), and the chemistry classes of 
Sieur Brongniard, apothecary to the king (at 
No. 182)." -^ 

The revolutionary government having closed the 
Sorbonne in 1791, the inmates, expelled from their 
domiciles, instinctively grouped themselves around 
their former sanctuary. The rue de la Harpe re- 
ceived a certain number of them. Other residents 



^ Vestiges of an aqueduct which had led water from Arcueil into 
this palace were discovered in 1544 near the Porte Saint-Jacques. — • 
Jaillot, Recherches sur Paris, t. V, p. 79. 



LA RUE DE LA HARPE 239 

came : Madame Roland and her " virtuous " hus- 
band, urged to quit their " furnished apartment " 
in rue Guenegaud, took a lease (March 10, 1792), 
" beginning with Easter, and at the price of 450 
livres," of " a modest lodging looking upon the 
court, at No. 51, opposite the Church Saint-Cosmo," 
and consequently on the site of the boulevard Saint- 
Michel, in the extension of the present rue Racine. 

Thirteen days later, Roland, named Minister of 
the Interior, took possession of the luxurious Hotel 
de Calonne, in the rue des Petits-Champs, but Mme. 
Roland, prudent and judicious, none the less wrote 
to Bancal : " The little apartment in the rue de la 
Harpe is getting into order ; it is a retreat which 
one should always have at hand, as certain philoso- 
phers keep their coffins in sight." 

Events cruelly proved her wisdom ; on June 17 
of the same year the ministry went to pieces, and 
the Rolands took up their abode in the rue de la 
Harpe. They remained there until August 11, 1792, 
when the Girondist ministers were recalled ; but 
they were again driven out, January 23, 1793, and 
it was to the rue de la Harpe that the officers 
came, amid great excitement, to arrest Manon 
Roland and take her to the Abbaye, the antecham- 
ber of the scaffold ! 

In 1794, during the incarceration of Fouquier- 
Tinville, his wife and children took refuge in a 
wretched apartment, " narrow and gloomy," in the 
rue de la Harpe ; here the unhappy wife received 
her husband's letters : " / Tinow no one willing to 
undertake my defence. — / shcdl find in no country 



240 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

an inch of land where to rest my head. — / would 
that I had a bottle of brandy, that I might keep up 
my strength by taking a little." And on the eve 
of his execution (May 4, 1795) his last letter closes 
with the words, " A thousand times adieu — and to 
the few friends who yet remain to us — adieu! adieu! 
Thy faithful husband till the very last sigh — " ^ 

Before sheltering the wife of the unfortunate 
Fouquier, the rue de la Harpe had received a wreck 
of another order, yet very tragic too. 



* * 



Agonizing must have been the surprise of the 
Sieur Nicholas Armez when Citizen Cheval, grocer 
in the rue de la Harpe, mysteriously invited him — 
probably after having sold him four packets of 
" sixes " candles and three ounces of pepper or cin- 
namon — to come into the back shop, where " he 
had something to show him." It was 1793, the 
Terror was reigning over terrified Paris, Nicholas 
Armez was a priest, and a non-juring priest at that 
— a deplorable condition in these dangerous times ; 
and Citizen Cheval passed, not without reason, for 
one of the most ardent patriots of the section of 
the Thermes. 

In his back shop, carefully padlocked, Citizen 
Cheval mysteriously opened a bureau drawer, and 
drew out of it half of a human head, wrapped in a 



^ Manuscript letters of Fouquier-Tinville preserved in the Library 
of the City of Paris. 



LA RUE DE LA HARPE 



241 



piece of " linen heavih^ mottled with brown spots." 
He unrolled this fragment of a winding sheet, and 
Armez, consternated, beheld a shrivelled mummy-like 
mask, sectionized from the top of the skull to the 




Death Mask (after Nature) of Cardinal Richelieu 
Collection of the Carnavalet Museum 

joint of the jaw bones, covered with a grayish 
rugged skin. The tightly closed lips were drawn 
back by a grin which left bare the fine teeth; 
wrinkled eyelids, still retaining their lashes, veiled 
an immense and deeply hollowed orbit, the broken 
nose deviated to the right, a thick moustache, still 
red, overhung the thin lips, a closely cut beard 



242 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

leng;thened the already long chin, — a few gray 
hairs shaded the magnificent broad head, very full 
at the temples. 

Abbe Nicholas Armez had not a moment of hesi- 
tation ; it was indubitably the head of the very 
high and very powerful lord, Armand-Jean du 
Plessis, Duke de Richelieu, cardinal-minister, prince 
of Holy Church and protector of letters, suddenly 
appearing — and in what a state ! — from a drawer 
in the bureau of Citizen Cheval, patriot grocer of 
the rue de la Harpe ! 

The Abbe's first moment of stupor past, Cheval 
told him how this tragic " bibelot " had come into 
his hands. ^ Charged to oversee the destruction of 
the Cardinal's tomb, he had profited by a moment 
when, the laborers going to dinner, he was left 
alone in the Church of the Sorbonne, to take pos- 
session of the remains and carry them away under 
his cloak. He had taken care, he added, to be back 

* The vault was opened twice in quick succession. In the minutes 
of the 19th Frimaire, year II, we read that "Citizens Dubois, Hebert, 
and Grincourt, charged with the moving of the coffins, told Citizen 
Bernard, in charge of the key (of the Church), that on the 17th of 
this month several citizens, among whom was Citizen Saillard, 
commissary of the section, came for the purpose of searching the said 
vault. Saillard, interrogated, admitted that he had been ordered by 
a person whose name he did not recall, but who bore the orders of the 
department, to search the said vault. They went down into it, but 
carried nothing away." 

The vault was again opened and officially searched the 19th, 20th, 
21st, 22d, and 23d of the same month, the report of the labors of 
each day being regularly drawn up. — Les Tomheaux des Richelieu 
a la Sorbonne, by a member of the Archaeological Society of the 
Seine-et-Marne, E. Thorin, publisher, 58 boulevard Saint-Michel 
Paris (1867). 

An unknown person cut off the head of Richelieu and showed it 
to the spectators. — Revue des Autographes, December, 1866, No. 100. 



LA RUE DE LA HARPE 



243 



on the spot when the laborers returned and so to 
arrange everything that they perceived notliing. 

It is proper to explain that (between the 19th 
and 23d Frimaire, laborers had invaded the Sor- 
bonne and broken open the twenty-seven tombs of 
the Richelieus, partly in order to " secure lead to 




Funeral Crypt of Cardinal Richelieu at the Sorbonne 

furnish balls to the defenders of the endangered 
fatherland," and partly to ascertain the facts as 
to a denunciation made by Sieur Leblanc " as to a 
deposit suspected to be hidden in the ci-devant 
Church of the Sorbonne." ^ 

. ^ The revolutionary Commissioners charged to open the coffins 
had found fifty of them, "large and small"; their statement gives 
the names of the twenty-seven Richelieus, and the twelve doctors 
of the Sorbonne. With regard to the leaden coflins, it concludes; 
"We left them in the church, since the bad odor which they exhale 
infects the small reserved place in which they might be deposited." 
— Revue des Autographes, p. 101. 



244 BYWAYS or pakis 

Let us hasten to say that the admirable Alexandre 
Lenoir took care to transport to the Museum of 
the Petits- Angus tins the marble monument of the 
Cardinal, a chef-d'ceuvre of Girardon, " already 
slightly mutilated by enemies of the arts who had 
had access to the chapel." At the same period a 
patriot of Limoges hung upon his turnspit, by way 
of counter weight, a marble head of Richelieu, cut 
from a statue in the chateau of La Meilleraye ! 

When the reaction of Thermidor came, the Ter- 
rorists, terrorized in their turn, made haste to 
conceal all traces of their violent exploits. It be- 
came dangerous to keep the " mask " of the Car- 
dinal, even in a bureau drawer. Wherefore Citizen 
Cheval's haste to present it to M. Armez. 

" I am afraid," he acknowledged, " of being ar- 
rested and deported as an ardent revolutionary. — 
I have observed that you valued the head of Riche- 
lieu ; I can do nothing with it ; please to accept it." 

After first refusing M. Armez yielded to the 
grocer's entreaties and carried away the treasure.^ 

Under the Second Empire, the nephew of the 
Abbe, then deputy from the C6tes-du-Nord, gave 
the precious relic to M. Duruy, and on December 
16, 1866, Monsignor Darboy, archbishop of Paris, 
sanctioned its restitution.^ 

^ In 1820 M. Armez, nephew of the abbe, was begged by a Dame 
du Kerouard to give her the head of the great Cardinal, that she 
might present it to the Duke de RicheHeu. M. Armez refused. — 
Les Tombeaux des Richelieu a la Sorbonne. 

^ M. Duruy, when personally returning the noble relics to Mgr. 
Darboy in presence of M. Charles Robert, general secretary of the 
minister, M. Anatole Duruy, then head of his cabinet, M. A. Mourier, 
vice-rector of the Academy of Paris, and M. the Abbe Bourret, pro- 



LA HUE DE LA HARPE 245 

When the Sorbonne was rebuilt by the eminent 
architect Nenot, it was decided that the mask of 
the Cardinal, which until then had been deposited 
outside of Girardon's cenotaph (reinstalled after the 
Revolution), should take its old place in the tomb. 
It became necessary therefore to proceed to a rec- 
ognition, which took place under the presidency of 
M. Hanotaux, then Minister of Foreign Affairs. 

In company with the Princess of Monaco 
(guardian of her son, born Richelieu), M. Nenot, 
M. Henri Roujon, director of the Beaux- Arts, and 
the Chaplain of the Sorbonne, our great painter 
Detaille was present at the impressive ceremony. At 
the Minister's request, hastily and under the do- 
minion of poignant emotion, jM. Detaille made a 
water-color sketch of the tragic mask of the great 
Cardinal reposing upon the cushion of purple silk 
where it had just been laid by the pious hands of 
M. Hanotaux.^ 

This is the picture, superb and distressing, upon 
which we gazed long yesterday in the studio of the 
rue d'Aumale which ]M. Hanotaux has made his 



fessor of theology, said, "I deposit in your hands all that remains to 
us of a great man whose name is always present here, since it made 
peace in France and increased its territory, honored letters and erected 
this building which has become the sanctuary of the most advanced 
studies. The University and the Academy perform a filial duty when 
together they pay their homage at the foot of this tomb which will 
never again be violated." — Les Tombeaux des Richelieu a la Sorbonne. 
^ "The head was in the leaden coffer on the silken cushion and we 
did not touch it. I simply lifted the veil of wadding which covered 
it, and because of some slight traces of decomposition, I laid upon 
the face another sheet of wadding which had been treated with all 
antiseptic precautions." — G. Hanotaux (Extract from a personal 
letter, March 26, 1909), Collection G. Cain. 



246 



BYWAYS OF PARIS 



study, at the same time enjoying the rare pleasure 
of listening to the impassioned and impressive his- 
torian of Richelieu talk of the great Cardinal! 
" And now, compare," concluded M. Hanotaux, 




The Mortuary Mask of the Cardinal-Minister 
Water-color by E. Detaille, Hanotaux Collection 

placing before our eyes an admirable study by 
Philippe de Champaigne, Richelieu on his death- 
bed, which figured in the Exposition of historic 
portraits in 1878.^ " Look at this head, this sublime 

^ "I had not lost sight of it," wrote M. Hanotaux, "and was able 
to buy it of a picture dealer who had acquired it at the sale of the 



LA RUE DE LA HARPE 



247 



brow covered by a linen cap, these eyes hollowed 
by suffering, this close-cut beard like that of the 
mask of the Sorbonne ! 

" It is the picture of one of the most remarkable 
Frenchmen who have honored our country, — not 
Frenchman only, but also Parisian, for Richelieu, 




Richelieu on his Death Bed 
Hanotaux Collection. Ph. de Champaigne, pinxit 

let us not forget, was born in Paris, in the rue de 
Bouloy, as his act of baptism shows — and ungrate- 
ful Paris does not possess, on one of its public 
places, the effigy of this very great man ! And yet 
is not his statue a matter of obligation, near to 

Haag collection. It was exhibited in 1900, and M. Lafenestre then 
made a study of it which left no room for doubt that it is by Philippe 
de Champaigne. (Personal letter addressed to M. Cain.) 



248 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

that Palais-Royal which he bequeathed to France 
after having built it near the Louvre close to his 
king, in order the more promptly to serve the in- 
terests of our country, to watch over its glory and 
its greatness? " 



THE TRUE " BUTTE " MONTMARTRE 

ONE learns something every day. I thought I 
knew Montmartre ; my friend Aristide Bruant, the 
popular song-writer, took upon himself to show me 
in a few hours that I was ignorant of the most 
surprising beauties of this " breast of the world," 
as the late Rudolphe Salis, Seigneur of Chat-Noir- 
ville, quaintly called it. I returned amazed from 
our excursion through a Montmartre almost unsus- 
pected by Parisians, a wild, rural, torrent-torn, 
sylvan Montmartre, which has nothing, absolutely 
nothing, in common with the Montmartre of noisy 
amusements trumped up for the entertainment of 
homesick foreigners. 

I have always loved Bruant's rugged talent. 
Dans la rue, Les Chansons de route are works 
which will abide. They are certainly not romances 
for bread-and-butter misses, but all lovers of art 
admire these songs, with their wrath, their cyni- 
cism, their violences, overflowing as they are with 
picturesque observation, and indulgent pity for the 
unfortunate. Oh, surely, Bruant does not mince his 
words ; the forlorn heroes whom he brings upon the 
scene speak their own language : costauds of Belle- 
ville, rouquines of the " Butte," terrors of Clignan- 
court, blackguards of La Villette, trimardeurs of 
Saint-Ouen, " merry fellows of the baf d'Af.'^ But 



250 



BYWAYS OF PARIS 



this professor of slang, this singer of the puro- 
tins, the light-fingered gentry, the unfortunate, the 
sharpers and the demoiselles of Saint-Lazare, has 
the tenderness of a mother for the little fellows, the 




A. Bruant by Steinlen 

poor wretches who never eat their fill, the infirm, 
the suffering, and also for stray dogs, those lean 
creatures which one sees searching for problemati- 
cal bones : 

— De braves gens, de bonnes betes 
Qu'une caresse rend joyeux, 
Et dont les grands yeux bieu honnetes 
Vous regardent droit dans les yeux! 




Aristide Bruant 



252 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

The excellent painter Steinlen — another very 
great artist — and Toulouze-Lautrec have popular- 
ized by their pictures, their drawings, their posters, 
the picturesque figure of this devil of a fellow whom 
Courteline thus describes : " A dog, two dogs, three 
dogs, boots, corduroy pantaloons, a waistcoat with 
revers and a hunting- jacket with metal buttons, a 
red scarf in the month of May, a red shirt at all 
times ! " 

An enthusiast for the army, Bruant keeps ever be- 
fore him on his desk two photographs of his son, 
— one as a student in Saint-Cyr, the other in his 
lieutenant's uniform. On the wall in the place of 
honor is the brevet of the medal of Saint Helena 
which was his grandfather's, a veteran of the great 
wars ; and it is in this company that our writer 
of popular songs writes those " constraining 
marches " which so well aid our brisk little soldier 
boys to " gobble up the kilometres." 

Francois Coppee, who was at home in such mat- 
ters, and who was Bruant's godfather in the So- 
ciety of INIen of Letters, wrote : " He is a great 
artist, descended in direct and legitimate line from 
our Villon," and it was a joy to me to explore in 
his company the old, very old Montmartre where 
he has lived so long. 

Worthy snobs, knowing only the ferociously hir- 
sute Bruant who received them with the most abso- 
lute bluntness when they " dared " to cross the 
sill of his wine-shop of Mirliton, on the boulevard 
Rochechouart, naturally have an imperfect idea of 
him. They went thither to make themselves eng, 










r^^y^^Af^ 







\ 






V fx5'< ^••/ ^.. -vW /i-^ I I ■- /^^\ iT^ 






^ o^^. 



254 BYAVAYS OF PARIS 

and I dare affirm that they were copiously so. They 
had their money's worth. Who does not remember 
those two smoky rooms, filled to bursting with an 
extraordinary public, where the " swell mob " were 
hand in glove with the models, the chahuteuses 
(disorderly women) of the Elysee-Montmartre, the 
painters from a neighboring studio, " fine Madames " 
fond and delighted, academicians who have fallen 
out with the Cupola, strolling grand dukes and im- 
penitent bohemians. The room is crowded to the 
very piano, beside the gilded angel. Customers help 
in the service, passing to distant drinkers the 
galopins destined to quench their thirst. " They 
drink only beer here," roars Bruant, " and bad beer 
at that. Another galopin—thsit beastly kind over 
there. Now, my children, j oin the chorus ! " And 
with his sonorous voice, like a brass instrument, he 
intones A Saint-Ouen, or les P'tits Joyeux, or A la 
Villette. 

But no sooner does two o'clock strike than Bruant 
shows the whole company to the door, whistles to 
his dogs, seizes his big ox-goad, and throwing his 
limousine (coarse woollen cloak) over his shoulder, 
climbs rapidly "up there" to No. 16^rue Cortot, 
nestled in its leafy nook in the midst of a wood, to 
disintoxicate himself from the smoke, the cries of 
the poivrots (cash-takers), the galopins (errand 
boys) of human stupidity, to sleep in the open air 
and to compose songs while listening to the black- 
bird's whistle and the warbler's song among the 
lilacs of his pare — a park of more than 6000 
metres ! 



THE TRUE 



" BUTTE " 



MONTMARTRE 255 



All this is what I wished to visit with this good 
companion who has seen so many things and knows 
so well how to relate them. Our paradoxical walk 
began near the Sacred-Heart and ended at the 
cabaret of the Assassins, rue des Saules ! 




MoNTMARTRE IN 1850 

The weather was of a tragic sort which is not 
without its charm ; this London mist, this " fog " into 
which we plunged, enveloped the leprous houses with 
a dreamy atmosphere, — in proportion as we ad- 
vanced the alleys, the buildings, the trees seemed to 
emerge from layers of gauze. 



256 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

By the rue Andre-del-Sarte we reached the inter- 
minable Sainte-Marie staircase, passed before the 
high-perched house where the master Gustave Char- 
pentier composed his masterpiece, Louise^ and 
reached the top of the Butte. There a hideous 
street-vendor, emerging from the fog, offered us 
postcards and " medals of the Basilica." " What ! 
le Rouquin ! " exclaims Bruant. " You here, you 
vile blackleg ! — I present to you the worst dog- 
stealer of the Butte. — Here, Toutou ! But I have 
warned you, if you are so unlucky as to touch 
Toutou, you '11 take the most awful dose — " " Oh, 
no danger, M'sieur Bruant, we respect your four 
paws." " Where have you come from.^ I heard 
that you had just drawn two years of obscurity. 
How did you come by that?" "Just because a 
policeman saw me give a sou to a poor man. It 
startled the fellow, my prodigality appeared to him 
suspicious. He grabbed me — but to-day it 's a 
thick fog. Bad day for the little medals." , " No 
time to pity you — good-bye. All the same give 
me two cards." " Oh, thank you, gentlemen." And 
we plunge into the fog. 

Passing alongside the Sacrj^d Heart,^ the immense 
walls of which seem like some Babylonian construc- 
tion, and before the stained wall where, on March 
18, 1871, were shot Generals Clement Thomas and 
Lecomte, we go down toward Saint-Ouen, by pic- 
turesque lanes where halves of old wells are still 
enclosed in the tottering walls. We descend broken 
stairways, bordered by withered- iris, great box 
trees white with frost, spindle-bushes powdered with 




Construction of the Church of the Sacred Heart 



Houbron, pinxit. 



Carnavalet Museum 



258 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

hoar frost, and at No. 22 rue du Mont-Cenis, enter 
a poor little garden where lean dogs are wandering 
and roupy hens pecking about. Masses of ivy half 
conceal the entrances to the cellars, ragged linen 
hangs lamentably from rusty iron wires. 

Here in 1834 lived Berlioz, not long after his 
marriage with the actress Harriet Smithson, his 
" Sensitive," the adored Ophelia of an English troupe 
playing at the Odeon. Rue du Mont-Cenis was at 
that time called rue Saint-Denys. The house was 
small — two rooms on the ground floor, two above. 
But what a marvellous view ! From their vine-em- 
bowered windows the young couple could see the 
whole Saint-Denis plain, even to the Basilica. 

" I fancy myself at Tivoli," wrote Berlioz to a 
friend. " Come and enjoy our hermitage." The 
Master lived here three years, writing his biting 
criticisms in the Renovateur and the Debats, finish- 
ing Harold in Italy, composing Benvenuto Cellini, 
knocking together romances for Protee, a fashion 
journal. There a son was born to him, August 14, 
1834. How proudly he went to the mayor's office 
of Montmartre to declare the fact! There were 
great doings at the Hermitage, for'^his friends, 
Alfred de Vigny, Hiller, J. Janin, Eugene Sue, 
Chopin, came to celebrate the happy event ! Poor 
Hermitage, so gay then, in what a state do we 
now behold you ! ^ 

1 It was said that Alphonse Karr had hired an old public ball 
in Montmartre, a Tivoli, half fallen to pieces. All that was left of 
it was a little grove and the office where canes used to be left. By 
night Karr slept in the cane office, and by day he walked in 
the grove. It was there that he wrote Sous les Tilleuls. Berlioz 



w 

O 

CO 
H 

o 

O o 



o 

H 
W 



00 




260 BYWAYS or PARIS 

Here we are now in the rue Cortot, a curious lane 
where the tops of the trees overtop palisades and 
walls blackened by rains, covered with inscriptions 
impossible to reproduce; the "little correspondence" 
of the apaches and pierreuses of Montmartre ; pro- 
testations of love, oaths of hatred, insulting epithets 
of those in power, imprecations against the " flics " 
— nothing is lacking. At No. 16 Bruant rings ; the 
door opens, and we enter the picturesque dwelling 
where for so long a time might be read, at the 
top of the six stone steps which give access to it, 
the inscription, " Popular Song-writer." 

Every trace of the interesting establishment of 
former days has disappeared ; we are in a cabinet- 
maker's shop, amid workbenches, planed boards, 
shavings, saws, gluepots. But the park, the de- 
lightful park, is intact — it lies before us in its 
sublime beauty. 

found for the summer term a country lodging with a garden. 
Beyond the Barrier of les Martyrs one can see him going up, 
him and his Harriett, by a broad avenue planted with trees, to- 
ward the mills. Above the ancient church rises, like a bell- 
tower, a massive round tower adapted to the curve of the east end 
and bearing the tall support of a signal telegraph. The church sur- 
rounded by its cemetery, full of graves and trees, occupies the centre 
of the village. Before it is a small square with rustic houses, close 
by is the mayor's office. Here and there are wineshops with shrub- 
bery where they play bowls. 

The Berlioz house is more distant. They pass the church and 
enter the rue Saint-Denis, which goes down the northern slope, 
paved only in the middle for the sewage, and shaded by great trees 
which meet overhead. About one fourth of the way down rue 
Saint-Denis is cut by rue Saint- Vincent — a picturesque lane run- 
ning along the brow of the hill, overlooked by terraces, and in its 
turn overlooking other gardens. At the angle of the two streets, 
the house on the right is theirs. — Adolphe Baschot, Un roman- 
tique sous Louis-Philippe, 1831-1842, p. 232. 




THE TRUE BUTTE MONTMARTRE 261 

The gray fog, forming a thick curtain behind the 
great trees, hides the wide landscape of the Saint- 
Ouen plain, but also veils two or three high modern 
buildings which are already coming up to the as- 
sault of "the Butte." It is ^ 

amazing to find this bit out of 
the forests of Fontainebleau 
or the woods of Meudon here, 
in the very heart of Paris ! 
Gigantic elms, poplars, oaks, 
long alleys of lime trees, undu- 
lating fields, arborescent ferns, 

,111 11 i-iii A Farm in Montmartre 

tall hemlocks upon which the 

Etching by Charles- Jacques 

frost hangs its silver lacework, 

grass, mosses as if sprinkled with powdered sugar, 

— a fairy realm, whence arise the songs of birds — 

"For the bearded thickets hide the ousels' nests." ^ 

We descend a series of steep slopes, holding on 
to the branches to keep from slipping, and from a 
half-broken-down terrace look down upon the as- 
tonishing rue Saint-Vincent. Here Bruant used to 
work, here he took notes from nature. On warm 
blue summer nights, leaning over this narrow street 
where irregular Montmartre folk of both sexes love 
to meet by appointment, he would hear the person- 
ages of his songs discussing their little affairs, set- 
tling their domestic differences, gabbling that world- 
old language, fierce, poetic, full of color, which we 
call slang, which Bruant has attempted to codify 
in an amazing and spicy dictionary. All painters 

^ Le Bois sacre, Edmond Rostand. 



262 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

who love the picturesque have reproduced the rue 
Saint- Vincent ; others are preparing to immortalize 
it anew. Will it be possible henceforth? At the 
present time the famous little street is closed at its 
exit into the Street of the Willows, near the Wind- 
mill of the Galette. Recent storms, washing away 
the earth, have broken down a part of its enclos- 
ing walls. 

Bruant, more moved than he would like to say, 
Bruant, to whom all this wild verdure recalls his 
childhood, stands there upon a little mound, chewing 
a blade of grass, wrapped in his great macfarlane, 
his big boots sinking into the soft earth, his fine, 
resolute Chouan head covered by an enormous felt 
hat, stands out against the fog, clear cut as the 
profile on a medallion. Bruant is dreaming of his 
" Montmartre," of those bohemians, nomads, brazen- 
faced pretty girls, needy folk with their smiling 
recklessness, those 7'efileurs de cometes, those un- 
happy creatures " whose hearts are more footworn 
than the sidewalk," all that bewildering, terri- 
fying, cynical, comical, shrewd, artless world which 
he knows better than anyone else, — and we leave 
the spot amazed and thoughtful, while Bruant 
hums : 

Quand i's Font couchee sous la planche 
Elle etait tout' blanche. 

Mem'qu'en I'ensev'lissant 
Les croq'morts disaient qu'la pauv'gosse 
Etait claquee'l'jour de sa noce 

Ru' Saint- Vincent ! 

The fog grows denser, the gaslights are encircled 
by a blue and yellow halo. We follow narrow slums 




The Rue Saint- Vincent, in Montmartre (1908) 



I 



264 



BYWAYS OF PARIS 



where the foot slips, now and again calling to 
" Toutou," who insists upon loafing around the 
outskirts. Puffs of warm air which seem to drag 
along the frozen earth issue from the sewer grates. 
Lights, noises, chords of a guitar. . . . Here we 
are in Weeping Willow Street, at the " wineshop 



tt-: 




The Windmills oi' Montmartre about 1845 

of the Assassins." Calm yourselves, gentle readers, 
the place is terrible only in name. When we enter, 
the " patroness of the Assassins," in great distress, 
is gently trying to introduce a little warm sugared 
milk into the throat of a tiny cat whose paw has 
been hurt by a " dirty dog." A large hall, benches, 
polished tables, two or three empty casks, posters 
on the walls, a basket- funnelled fireplace where a fire 
burns brightly, and the song-maker of the company, 
a potter by day — a good-looking fellow with a 
curly beard, wearing a suroit and velvet trousers — 



o 

o 
*^ 

H 

w 

IS 

> 

m 

w 
> 

03 

M 




266 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

catches up his guitar, and with half-closed eyes and 
a soft voice breathes forth in our honor the lines 
of Ronsard: 

Quand au Temple nous serons, 
Agenouilles nous ferons 
Les devots selon la guise. . . 

Ronsard's lines in the " cabaret des Assassins " ! 



THE FOURTH OF SEPTEMBER, 

J 870 

THE PLACE OF THE CHATEAU D EAU — THE GRAND 

BOULEVARDS.— THE HOTEL DE VILLE.— 

THE QUAYS 

rpHAT morning — a radiant Sunday, flooded with 
-^ sunlight — we rose early, my brother and I. 
At dinner the previous evening our parents had 
seemed so distressed, the war news appeared to be 
so discouraging, that we were eager to learn more. 
The door of our mother's room being still closed, 
we steal out furtively from the little family mansion, 
and run to the Place of the Chateau d'Eau, now 
Place of the Republic. 

In the midst was at that time a vast stone foun- 
tain which has now been transported to the Place 
Daumesnil and replaced by a massive statue of the 
Republic. Six lions of green bronze spouted water 
into large basins. We were to see these lions again 
the next year — in the last days of May, 1871, 
during the death throes of the Commune — find 
them riddled with balls and fragments of bombs, 
overturned in the basins filled with water, stained 
with the blood of combatants and with petroleum 
from the touries seized by the Army of Versailles 
at the Prince Eugene caserne and the United Stores 
(now Hotel Moderne), the ruins of which were still 



268 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

smoking. In the horrible mixture were floating caps 
of federates, broken muskets, tattered godillots. A 
Httle farther, at the top of the rue Voltaire, at No. 
4, was a barricade shouldering a burnt house, and on 
the barricade a cannon, broken, overturned, one 
wheel caught under paving stones, the other in the 
air, its tire half off. At four paces from this bar- 
ricade Delescluze had been killed ; branches of trees 
cut off by the fusillade and the mitraille were scat- 
tered on the ground; the pavement was still red 
with blood. 

We had formed the habit, since the first days 
of the war, of going for news to the angle of the 
caserne at the corner of the rue de la Douane where 
the official bulletins were posted. This Sunday, 
September 4, notwithstanding the early hour, eight 
or ten persons were already huddled, silent and con- 
sternated, before the white bulletin. We hurried ! 
All my life I shall see that fatal paper, clinging to 
the stone beside a grated air-hole above a dark 
cellar ; since that day I have never crossed the 
place but inevitably my eyes have been lifted to that 
suggestive stone. The bulletin announced the dis- 
aster of Sedan. " A great misfortune fallen upon 
the Fatherland - — defeat — the Emperor gives up 
his sword." We could not believe our eyes ; our 
hearts bursting with sobs, we returned home. 

In the garden we find our parents in tears ; 
friends come in, — there are kisses, discussions, des- 
ultory talk. The old chauvinism coming to our 
help, we begin to hope in spite of all. Names are 
mentioned — " France, it must never — But what 



X 
O 

d 

a 

o 

'^ 

H 
Id 
H 
H 

td 
W 
W 



00 
o 



o 

a- 




270 BYWAYS or PARIS 

will Paris do ? — What is going on in the streets ? 
— Some one should go and see " — and here we are 
on the boulevards, in our schoolboy uniforms of the 
Lycee Louis-le-Grand. 

It is ten o'clock ; the boulevards seem very calm ; 
there are groups before the bulletins and the news- 
paper kiosks — orderlies are galloping about the 
streets. At the Porte Saint-Denis groups of men, 
arm in arm, are defiling in the middle of the street 
crying, " Downfall ! Downfall ! Long live Trochu ! " 
Many of the national guard in uniform, sharp- 
shooters in Tyrolean hats, loungers in short jackets, 
soldier's caps on their heads and guns on their 
shoulders — newsvenders running, crying their papers. 
Two officers of the mobiles passing in carriages receive 
ovations ; a lady, all in tears, throws flowers to them.^ 

There were very few people in the Place de la 
Concorde ; watering-carts were going quietly about 
their business, and the American omnibus, stationed 
at the entrance of the Champs-Elysees, near the 
horses of Marly, was full of people in Sunday 

1 Our great national painter, Edouard Detaille, then a mobile in 
the eighth battahon of the mobiles of the Seine, kindly sends us 
these picturesque memories: "The 4th of September I was in camp. 
We were a band of jolly fellows upon whom events made very little 
impression. Germain of the Novelty Theatre was bugler in my 
company, of which were also Walewski, Frederic Masson, de 
Marescot, Lecomte, Bertin, Du Paty, Boitelle, etc. I remember 
that it was Alexander Duval who, sticking his head in at the opening 
of the tent where we were, told us the terrible news of the war, and 
the revolution in Paris. We were very young, and little competent 
to judge of these catastrophes. Only Boitelle, son of the Pre- 
fect of Police, said sententiously, 'Well, it's papa who won't be 
pleased.' 

"We remained in camp, but all night we were on foot, making 
the rounds, fearing an irruption of rioters in the cantonments." 



THE FOURTH OF SEPTEMBER, 1870 271 



clothes, setting out for a day in the woods of 
Saint-Cloud or a fish dinner at Bas-Meudon ! The 
Tuileries gardens were closed and empty ; we fol- 
lowed the quays ; the fishermen were in their usual 
places. The tri-colored flag was floating over the 
central pavilion of the 

palace of the Tuileries, — '^ 

the Empress-Regent still ^ 

there, — through the glass 
galleries of the ground 
floor we could see the 
light-horsemen of the 
guard. In the court of 
the Carrousel several offi- 
cers of the palace service 
were pacing up and down, 
smoking with a preoccu- 
pied air. Two cavalry- 
men, motionless, carabine 
on hip, were mounting 
guard before the wooden 

tents on the right and left of the small Arc de 
Triomphe. 

Luncheon rapidly expedited, we went out again 
to investigate matters, my brother with my father, 
I with my grandfather. The aspect of the boule- 
vards was entirely changed; the crowd, gloomil}^ 
silent in the morning, was now excited and noisy. 
Battalions of the national guard were defiling, led 
by their bands of music; the brass instruments 
gave out their strident notes, cries arose, " Down- 
fall ! downfall ! " A few cried, " Long live Gam- 




Gambetta 



272 BYWAYS or parts 

betta ! Long live Trochu ! Long live the Repub- 
lic ! " — which amazed us. Not a police officer. We 
followed a battalion to the Place de la Concorde. 
The bridge was closed by a double row of mounted 
gendarmes. Beyond, a compact crowd was massed 
before the iron gates of the Corps Legislatif. There 
were loud cries — hurrahs ! Some one near us said 
that Gambetta and Jules Ferry were haranguing the 
deputies. Soon the gendarmes guarding the bridge 
were overcome, and the manifestants of the Place de 
la Concorde rushed across to join those before the 
Corps Legislatif. Here they were singing the Mar- 
seillaise, there the Chant du Depart. The crowd 
parted to give passage to the gendarmes and a 
squad of policemen going, with sheathed swords, to 
the barracks, amid cries of " Long live France ! " 
" Long live Gambetta ! " " Long live Trochu ! " 
Some said that Jules Favre and Gambetta had gone 
to the Hotel de Ville to proclaim the Republic ; the 
Chamber had been invaded and the downfall of the 
Empire proclaimed.^ 

^ How did the crowd succeed in passing the iron gates? The in- 
cident is worth noting. 

"Some officers of the battaHon of the national guard posted upon 
the Pont de la Concorde had occasion to enter the Palace [Corps 
Legislatif]. M. Steenackers opened the grating and the officers 
passed through. But how were they to close a gate pushed by the 
breasts of twenty thousand men.'* Impossible! The flood passed 
in with the officers, and in a minute all the halls were filled with people. 

"It will be said — ^ it has already been said — that it was the 
deputies of the democratic opposition who desired to urge on the 
national representatives to proclaim the Republic. It is false! They 
made unheard-of efforts to drive out the mob and to keep inviolate 
the sanctuary of the Chamber. 

"The Right disappears, the Centre follows General Palikao, and 
the Left, in the name of the sovereign people, read a preliminary list 




The Government of the National Defence 
{Le Monde Illustre) 



274 BYAVAYS OF PARIS 

Acclamations are redoubled — the iron fence of the 
Tuileries is broken down — the crowd passes timidly • 
into the garden ; many curious persons " defile " 
back of the trees and statues, for they fear a salvo 
may be fired by the light-horsemen, drawn up in 
battle array before the palace at the end of the 
Grand Alley. General Mellinet, a glorious balafre 
of the First Empire, is in command, and the brave 
veteran has no cold in his eyes. 

My grandfather prudently leads me away, and we 
take the road back to the boulevards. There are 
heads at all the windows, very few carriages, the 
streets and sidewalks black with people. At the 
corner of the rue Le Peletier a crowd is staring at 
two men, of whom one is a national guard, occupied 
in cutting down with sabres the imperial arms above 
the shop door of Dussautoy, Tailor to the Em- 
peror; but these excited personages whom many 
applaud take great care not to injure the two- 
headed Russian eagle which is coupled with the 
eagle of Napoleon. 

It is like a signal — the crowd rushes upon the 
imperial ensigns — the clerks of the " furnishers of 
LL. MM. the Emperor and the Empress " seem to 
be the first in the fray ; in less than an hour every 
dynastic emblem, the crown, the N has disappeared 
from the fronts of the shops, — a few rabid indi- 
viduals carry their wrath so far as to scratch from 
the merchants' si^gns the vignettes of Exposition 

of members proper to form a provisional government. A thousand 
and a thousand voices cry together, 'To the Hotel de Ville!'" — 
L' Illustration. 



THE FOURTH OF SEPTEMBER, 1870 275 

medals adorned with the mustachioed profile of Na- 
poleon III. 

The terraces of the cafes before which collections 
are made for the wounded are crowded with cus- 
tomers, drinking deep, howling, shouting " Long live 
the Republic ! " " Long live Gambetta ! " New^s 
are interchanged ; people ask, " What has become 




The Deputies of the Left Bank (4th September) 

of the Empress?" "Is it true that the red flag 
has been hoisted? " " What time was it w^hen the 
Chamber announced the downfall of the Empire? " 
" Capoul, on the imperial of an omnibus, was sing- 
ing the Marseillaise ^ust now; he was applauded!" 
A moblot on the Boulevard Montmartre, climbing 
upon a bench, announces that he has just come from 
the Hotel de Ville — "Henri Rochefort had just 
come in covered with flowers — he came in an open 



276 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

carriage — thousands of men were escorting him, ap- 
plauding — the people broke in the doors of Sainte- 
Pelagie (prison) and set him free. — Long live 
Rochefort ! " ^ 

My grandfather and I, incorrigible Parisian saun- 
terers, mechanically study the theatre posters : at 
the Theatre Fran9ais the Emperor's stock company 
will give, at half-past seven, le Menteur, Merope, le 
Caprice; at the Opera-Comique, Zampa, with Leon 
Achard; at the Gayety, la Chatte blanche; at the 
Palais-Royal, les Diables roses. Ball at the Mabille 
garden and at Tivoli-Vauxhall. 

A great crowd is before the Gymnase Theatre 

^ "Olivier Pain broke the lock, the door flew open, and a hundred 
friends rushed into the passage, lifted me in their arms, and hurried 
me to an open carriage which was passing. 

"The crowd around us increased visibly every moment. Our 
escort soon became an army. 

"I was in the victoria with Pain, Paschal Grousset, who having 
been set free a few weeks earlier had come to meet us, Arthur de 
Fonvielle, Charles Dacosta, so that the carriage, crowded beyond 
all anticipation, advanced only at a foot pace. 

"In an instant we were covered with flowers, and I was all striped 
with scarfs and draped with red ribbons like a greased pole at a fair. 
We were told that the Chamber had just risen, and that the deputies 
from Paris were deliberating at the Hotel de Ville. 

"We had gathered such a crowd along the way that at the lowest 
figure we were fifty thousand strong when we arrived before the 
Hotel de Ville. 

"The iron fence would have given way under the pressure of the 
crowd, but it was finally opened by the porter of the Hotel de Ville. 
The door at the foot of the staircase leading to the rooms above had 
also been bolted, and the mass of our body being jammed into the 
hall with me, I thought that I should never get out. In fact, I 
probably should not have done so, had I not taken the resolution 
to break a pane of glass. The fragments having been carried away 
by some one, I was enabled to squeeze through. But I was almost 
in tatters when the ushers introduced me into the hall of deliberations, 
where the provisional government was already in session." — Henri 
Rochefort, The Adventures of my Life, t. II, p. 200. 



THE FOURTH OF SEPTEMBER, 1870 277 

(where Mile. Desclee will play this evening le Demi- 
Monde). The policemen who occupy the little post 
which hugs the steps of the Bonne-Nouvelle Church 
charge them with the sword. " They did well," said 







Henri Rochefort (4 September, 1870) 

some, " some blackguards fired upon them with re- 
volvers." The iron gates are closed ; two national 
guards, armed, stand guard before the hermetically 
closed post. 

The whole population, nervous, trembling, crowd 
to the boulevards ; many citizens in civilian dress, 
having on their heads a kepi or a shako from which 



278 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

the eagle has been torn, carrying muskets adorned 
with leaves torn from the trees in the squares, many 
women, many children ; the cocoa merchants do a 
golden business. The war and our poor soldiers are 
hardly spoken of. Every one seems to hope, they 
" will " to hope, that a change of regime will bring 
about a change of fortune, and strangely enough, 
yet certainly, on this day of mourning, Paris takes 
on a festival air ! 

At the corner of the boulevard and the rue Saint- 
Denis two ambulant singers warble obscene couplets 
about the Empress. 

Dinner was a feverish meal that day. Each has 
some episode to relate, terrible or touching, patriotic 
or comic, picked up by chance in the course of his 
walks. Our father had met Sardou, who told him 
of his interview with General Mellinet, the diplomacy 
he had been obliged to use to induce the general to 
withdraw his soldiers and avoid a useless effusion 
of blood. About two o'clock the flag had been 
brought,^ the Empress Eugenie having quitted the 

^ A toast to the Empress Eugenie was drunk that same evening 
of the 4th September in the Palace of the Tuileries. 

Narrative of M. Delaporte, former advocate before the Tribunal 
of the Seine, at that time sub-lieutenant of the 5th battalion of the 
national guard: 

"After remaining around at the Place Vendome until three 
o'clock in the afternoon, waiting for definite information and orders, 
the two battalions of the national guard, of which one was mine, 
were ordered to occupy the Tuileries, which a quiet crowd, in their 
Sunday best, were visiting without disorder, in amazed surprise. At 
seven o'clock the officers of the national guard on duty at the Tuileries 
were informed that dinner awaited them in the palace. I went. 
The dinner was that destined for the officers of the morning's duty 
— the Emperor's service. Champagne was served at dessert, and it 
was there that, not without surprise, we saw one of our comrades. 



THE FOURTH OF SEPTEMBER, 1870 279 

palace; at three the light horse of the imperial 
guard gave place to the national guard, and a few 
companies of mobiles ; hundreds of curious per- 
sons had walked through the palace, very respect- 
fully, without doing the slightest damage. One of 
my friends had met the carriage in which Gambetta, 
Picard, Magnin, and Laurier had gone from the 
Corps Legislatif to the Hotel de Ville — escorted 
with what shouts ! 

There ensued a council of the Provisional Govern- 
ment; General Trochu presided, with Jules Favre at 
his right. The long session, begun at half-past nine 
in the evening, lasted all night long. The Council 
was held in the " cabinet of the right wing facing 
the Seine." At the bottom of the room was a buffet 
with " various cold meats " ; the members of the 
government of National Defence ate hastily, stand- 
ing, while continuing to discuss. 

The adjoining rooms were occupied by the na- 
tional guard. Outside, on the Place de Greve and 
along the quay, the crowd was shouting incessant 
acclamation. At daybreak the members threw them- 
selves upon the sofas, or upon improvised beds, to 
snatch a few hours of necessary rest. Rochefort 
slept in the former bedroom of Mme. Haussmann.^ 

wearing a lieutenant's stripes, rise, glass in hand. We supposed 
that he was going to drink to the Republic, but no. Without em- 
barrassment he told us that he had had occasion to be present at the 
departure of the Empress, that he had found her full of dignity and 
courage, and that he proposed to us a toast, not to the Empress but 
to the woman, the mother. The proposition found no echo, but 
neither did it arouse protest, and the speaker seated himself in the 
midst of silence." (Private letter.) 
^ Figaro, September 4, 1909. 



280 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

No one will be surprised to hear that the name 
" rue du Quatre-Septembre " dates from that day ; 
until then it had been called the " rue du Dix- 
Decembre," souvenir of the proclamation of the Em- 
pire. That too suggestive blue tablet was the first 
victim of the new order. 



THE DANCING CLASSES OF 
THE OPERA 

u / >( o up five flights, turn to the right, go through 
VX three doors, go up tAvo more flights, turn 
again to the right, and there ask your way of the 
first person you may be so lucky as to meet ; for 
certainly you will not find your way among all the 
corridors which will open before you." 

Such were, pretty nearly, the directions which the 
concierge of the Opera was so kind as to give me 
when I asked her to tell me where M. Giraudier, 
professor of dancing for the men's class, was giving 
his lesson. 

After having ten times gone astray, disturbing 
tailors bent over Wagnerian breeches, burst in upon 
carpenters furbishing up Roman cars, disturbed 
dressmakers occupied in mending tulle skirts, in- 
quired of lamp-tenders and firemen, not to speak of 
two sleepy ofl^ce clerks, deep in the reading of The 
Auto, paced corridors in which repose the Egyptian 
gods of A'ida and the standards of Faust's soldiers, 
put away till the next representation, interviewed the 
wooden skeletons of fiery coursers destined to carry 
the Walkyries in their heroic race, I at last discov- 
ered a dresser, her arms loaded with rose-colored 
peplums, who, like a new Ariadne, was kind enough 
to guide me through the labyrinth. After a quarter 



282 



BYWAYS OF PARIS 



hour of breathless attempts I reached M. Giraudier's 
class-room. 

At the moment of my entrance a score of young 
men of unequal height and various ages — children 




The Entrance to the Class Rooms 

of eight years and men of twenty — were making 
prodigious " cat leaps," in a vast room with an in- 
clined floor like the stage of the Opera. At the 
farther end was a large mirror, at right and left 
supporting bars ; the dancers were in their kid 
pumps, short breeches, white or gray stockings, 



THE DANCING CLASSES OF THE OPERA 283 

shirts wide open. Violin on shoulder, beating the 
measure, correcting movements, indicating them pro- 
fessionally by a skillful inflection of the legs, M. 
Giraudier was directing and correcting his pupils. 
" Foot more extended — you go too fast — too fast, 
I tell you — and your arms, do you think they are 




The Presence Sheet 

aeroplanes ? — One, two ! No hourree now — the foot 
farther out — one, two, that 's better ! Now you, 
Robert — Remember that examination comes in a 
week — six cuts ! One, two, seven cuts — good ! 
That will do." And violin on shoulder, the profes- 
sor circulates among his scholars, with gliding step 
over the unwaxed floor, marked off with eight great 
lines by water from the funnels. In its turn the 
" little class " of children from eight to ten years, 



284 



BYWAYS OF PARIS 



with all the grace of little girls, stretch the leg, 
bend the knee, and try their best to accomplish the 
redoubtable " entrechat six." 

But it is half-past ten : " Come along, sign ! " and 
the dancers, in their large childish writing, sign the 
" presence sheet." The little boys poke fun at one 
another : " See Monsieur, how badly he writes ; he 




The "Little Girls ' 

does not know how to write." They writhe with 
laughter, slip on their thin cloaks, and away they 
fly like a flock of sparrows. 

A dozen fine large girls take their places — the 
leaders : Mile. Theodore's class succeeds that of M. 
Giraudier. At first all is complaint, " Brrr — how 
cold it is — we shall freeze here ! " These pretty 
persons bewail themselves loudly. All are in lesson 
costume, — dancing shoes, pink stockings, tarletan 
skirt, full white trousers gathered at the knees, bare 



286 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

arms ; they wear woollen scarfs crossed over their 
very low corsages or pink or blue satin morning 
jackets; their hair is dressed as it may happen; 
their eyes seem heavy with sleep ; several of them 
have drawn on knitted leggings. 

Mile. Theodore appears, fine and slender in her 
black dress. " Come, come, my children, don't waste 
your time. You don't seem to be very wide awake 
this morning." The lesson begins. Snaps of the 
thumb, clappings of hands indicate the movement ; 
to exercises at the bar succeed toe and leg practice.^ 

Oh, the intelligent, bewitching grace of these 
slender women's feet, which now skim the floor with- 
out apparently deigning to rest upon it, now appear 
to stick into the board like a needle in a cushion. 
With a precision, a method, a perfect art, the pretty 
battalion manoeuvres at the command of its colonel, 
who, for that matter, preaches by example, showing 
with an adroit gesture the movements to execute. 
Then they pass to another exercise. " Come, the 
adagio.'' At this moment the pianist (for the piano 
has succeeded the violin) strikes the first measures 
of the figure. " Your turn. Bertha, come down — 
no hourree. Rise on your toes — better than that — - 
again. That will do ! — Come, Pichard, your turn 
— not bad. — Don't be in a hurry, Georgette. Leave 

1 Salaries of opera dancers in 1842: Mme. Carlotta Grisi, first 
danseuse, 40,000 francs a year, 60 francs for fires. Mme. Louise 
Fitz- James, character danseuse, 18,000 francs a year, Mme. Pauline 
Leroux, character danssuse, 12,000 francs a year, 50 francs for fires. 
Mile. Mario, first danseuse, 25,000 francs a year. Mile. Forster, 
first danseuse, 6000 francs a year. The sisters Desmilatre, dancers 
of second order, 10,000 francs a year. Each danseuse in the ballet 
at 1500 francs. — Salon litteraire (October 30, 1842). 



THE DANCING CLASSES OF THE OPERA 287 

your leg well behind you, and when you are well 
at the arabesque draw in your back, and don't for- 
get that it 's a jete below. — Gently, more gently, 
Blanche, your arm is too high. — And you, Germaine, 
look out for your toes." These docile young girls 




At the Bar 



soon learn to carry out their professor's orders ; 
but while they are whirling a comb falls, another, 
a third. Mile. Theodore gets impatient. " Do fasten 
your hair better. — This rain of combs is insup- 
portable ! Come, one, two ; begin again ; bravo, 
Germaine ! " ^ 

1 Not only does Mile. Theodore direct classes of coryphees, she 
also presides at the ensemble practice of the pupils. 



288 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

Under the great skylight, the crude light of which 
casts a golden nimbus upon the light-haired ones, 
all these pretty girls, smiling, form graceful and 
charming groups. Their eyes are no longer puffed 
out, they are really awake, their professional love 
makes them forget their fatigue. 

For they are greatly mistaken who imagine that 
a dancer's existence can admit of considerable leisure. 
Their work begins at ten in the morning and often 
does not end till midnight, with the falling of the 
curtain. Class from nine till half-past ten for the 
children, from half-past ten till twelve for the sub- 
jects, the leaders, and quadrilles, rehearsal at half- 
past twelve, and four times in the week an evening 
performance — such is the usual time-table. 

Choregraphic education begins at about eight 
years, and requires a method continually progressive 
and severe ; a regular suppling process enables a 
young girl, almost a child, to endure without injury 
to her health the excessive fatigue required by the 
study of dancing. 

How far we are from the legend ! 

We climb other stairs and follow other corridors. 
Here is the door of the little children's class which 
Mile. Van Goeten teaches. We enter, and Mile. Van 
Goeten exclaims : " Just my luck ! You have come 
on the very day when my pianist, down with a severe 
case of grippe, has failed me. On the very eve of 
the examination my poor pupils have to work to my 
singing, and God knows how ill I sing ! " 



THE DANCING CLASSES OF THE OPERA 289 

Mile. Van Goeten is too modest; she sings very 
well, keeps good time, and her little quadrille re- 
sponds the most prettily in the world to her intelli- 
gent orders.^ These are all little girls of from 



Mlle. Mauri's Ensemble Class in the Grand Foyer of 

THE Opera 

twelve to fourteen years ; the silver medals of their 
first communion are still hanging at their slender 

1 Friday, June 23, 1871. 
The little pupils and the coryphees rehearse in full costume for the 
first time since the closing of the theatre. 

There are about thirty of them, divided into small groups, their 
white tarletan gowns lighting up the half darkness of the theatre. 
They come and go, chatting with animation. Here is one who, 
leaning over, is fastening her shoestring; another upright, upon the 
tips of her toes with which she seems to pierce the floor, prolongs 
her pose, then drops upon her feet after a pirouette, saying with the 
prettiest gesture in the world: 

"What was that my mother said, that I had lost my tiptoes 



290 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

throats ! There are some charming ones, who already 
put on a languishing air with enviable proficiency. 
It would seem, indeed, as if this class were a school 
of grace, so strongly does the professor combat " bad 
attitudes." Almost the entire lesson is devoted to 
keeping w^ithin bounds too prominent elbows and 
knees. " Now, my children, let 's work at the 




Mlle. Rosita Mauri 

examination step." And, humming the while, Mlle. 
Van Goeten indicates and imitates the difficult 
passages. -s, , 

" Ta, ta, ta, ta, Emma, your knee — ta, ta, ta, 

during the war! I knew well enough that I had n't — tiptoes don't 
get lost so easily!" 

I approach a group in very animated conversation. A fair and 
very pretty little coryphee is telling about the fall of the column 
Vendome : ; 

"I was there," she said, "in the first row, and I bought a 'Com- 
plaint' that they were selling in the rue de la Paix. I learned it 
by heart." — Notes and Memories (1870-1871): Ludovic Halevy 
(p. 107). 



THE DANCING CLASSES OF THE OPERA 291 

one — one, two, three, bend — one, two, ta, ta, ta, 
cat-leaps — your little foot, Jane — ta, ta, ta," and 
Jane looks out for her " little foot " in its gray 
coutil shoe. 

As I admired the charm of these slim young girls, 
their teacher was so kind as to introduce me to her 
best scholar, Mile. Emma Mauller, eleven years old, 




At the Second Quadrille 

who covers herself with glory in the ballets of 
Femina. This " budding star," as another has said, 
deigned to dance in my honor the pizzicati of Sylvia, 
and I left the room with this delightful vision be- 
fore my eyes. 

Retracing our steps down the interminable stairs, 
we find ourselves on the level of the stage and raise 
the heavy vellum, almost hermetically close, which 
shuts in the great foyer of the dance behind the 
scenes. Here in the most sacred place Mile. Rosita 
Mauri, but yesterday the glory of our National 



292 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

Academy, holds, with unquestioned authority, the 
classes in perfectioning.-^ 

In the middle of the large divan, carefully wrapped 
in a long white knitted mantle, her hair fastened 
up and covered with a pale blue mantilla, holding in 
her hand the tall black cane with its golden head — 
her baton of command — with authoritative brow, 
Mile. Rosita Mauri is givin,g her lesson. 

The admirable artist received me with outstretched 
hands, and yet Mile. Mauri seemed anxious, her in- 
telligent eyes were sad. Mile. Mauri is somewhat 
nervous, she exaggerates her picturesque Spanish 
accent. " He, dear sir, you happen upon a bad 
time. I have no one this morning. Last evening it 
was Faust, to-day it rains torrents, — the poor little 
things are weary — only two brave girls have defied 
the storm, Schwarz and Billion — quality must make 
up for quantity to-day." 

Oh, the fine lesson — not only of dancing but of 
esthetics. " Come, young ladies, go on — grace — 
still more grace — the arms a little lower — the wrist 
more supple — turn back now — extend the toes — 



1 The foyer of the dance in the old Opera (1844) is a vast, broad 
room adjoining the former Hotel Choiseul. It is ill-lighted, and 
furnished with a semicircular bench upon which the elect few per- 
mitted access to this sanctuary are seated. A marble bust of la 
Guimard, set upon a column of painted wood, like those which can 
hardly be said to ornament the public foyer, is the sole relic adored 
in this temple. The wall, covered with sculptured woodwork ou- 
vragee after the manner of the time, is decorated with mirrors which 
have successively reflected the freshest and prettiest little faces in 
the world. At regular distances triangles of iron placed at elbow 
height serve the dancers, who hang from them with all sorts of pigeon- 
wings and leg actions while waiting their turn to appear upon the 
stage. — Les petits Mysteres de VOpera: Alberic Second, p. 134. 




A Lesson with Mlle. Mauri in the Great Foyer of Dancing 
Mlles. Barbier, Zambelli, D. Lobstein 



294 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

hop ! bravo, Schwarz ! Very well — position of the 
arm, attitude, rest." The charming dancers, like 
two Greek statues, became motionless in the " noble 
pose," and Mile. Mauri, satisfied, cried, " There, are 
they of a fine line? This one is perfect. But con- 
sider that it demands a whole lifetime of work, and 
of hard work, I assure you, to attain this perfec- 
tion. Not an easy trade, this of ours, and not to 
be taken up by every one ; and, besides, what gym- 
nastics, sometimes what torture, too ! 

" Did you know that Taglioni, after a two hours' 
lesson with her father, fell upon the floor of her 
room half dead, and was undressed, sponged, and 
dressed again without having any consciousness of 
what was being done.^^ And she had to dance that 
evening, la povera! " ^ 

But Mile. Mauri's brow grows more serene. Noise- 
lessly, one by one, the tardy ones make their ap- 
pearance. The ranks of the flying squadron of the 
Opera are nearly full. ]\Illes. Aida Boni, Urban, 
Lobstein, Meunier, Johnsson, de Moreira, Dockes, 
and Guillemin come to the lesson, and it is a wonder 
to see these lovely persons resolve, while playing, 
difficulties imposed by their eminent professor. By a 
word, a gesture. Mile. Mauri, her left hand on her 

^ A dancer devoured by ambition. Mile. X, invented S. G. D. G., 
a very ingenious way of breaking oneself and turning oneself at the 
same time. Mile. X. would throw herself down, face to the floor, her 
leg extended horizontally, then she made her waiting-maid stand 
upon her with all her weight. In time she became so accustomed 
to this domestic burden that she was able to carry her mother and 
her sister. If room had not been wanting, she would have come 
to carry many others. — Petits Memoires de VOpera: Charles de 
BoiGNE, 1857, p. 35. 



THE DANCING CLASSES OF THE OPERA 295 

hip, and beating the measure with that terrible black 
cane, commands, oversees, sparing neither criticism 
nor compliments. 

After a few moments a new dancer appears ; after 
executing certain motions and steps she carelessly 
raises her slender foot to the highest bar, higher 




Mlle. Mauri's Class 

than her shoulder, and in this position, strange but 
professional, she tranquilly looks on till the lesson 
is over. This charming apparition, dark, fine, ner- 
vous, is Mlle. Zambelli, the star of the Opera. She 
dances when her turn comes, and we admire this 
great artiste, one of the most perfect whom it has 
ever been my lot to applaud. Mlle. Mauri sums up 
our sensations in a word, " It is a feu d' artifice. ^^ 
Then with the infinite charm of a woman speaking 
with love of an art in which women are superior, Mile. 



296 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

Mauri enumerates the necessary qualities of a true 
dancer, elegance of attitude, nobility of position, 
charming yieldings of the body, slow movements, 
sinuous lines, and, above all, sportive eyes. When 
Mile. Mauri speaks of her art, she is the very 
apostle of the religion of choregraphy, sowing the 
good word. Eyes, voice, gesture, everything about 
her is serious, — I had almost said pedantic. 

But — there is always a " but " in life — from 
under the black skirt of austere cut peeps out the 
end of a little foot imprisoned in a narrow polished 
pump, and this little foot is not pedantic at all. Ah, 
the rascal, how restive it is, how it arches itself, how 
it appears and disappears ! What a docile pupil, 
and how intelligently it obeys the professor's signs ! 
We have known it, shod in rose-colored satin, when 
it was charming us with le Cid, les Deux Pigeons, la 
Korrigane, Coppelia! ^ 

Mademoiselle Rosita Mauri, when you wish to be 
quite serious, look out for your little foot ! 

^ I may be permitted in this connection to recall the lines written 
by A. de Musset to Taglioni, creator of the ballet VOmbre: 

Si vous ne voulez plus danser, 
Si vous ne faites que passer 
Sur ce grand theatre si sombre, 
Ne courez plus apres votre ombre 
Et tachez de nous la laisser. 



A WEEK OF INUNDATION 



SUNDAY, January 23, 1910, three o'clock in the] 
afternoon, from a balcony above Quai Voltaire. 
— Notwithstanding the snow, which falls in whirlj 
winds, a dense crowd is besieging the parapets 
the quays, contending for the newspapers, counting 
the stone steps leading down to the inundated banks; 
there are still twelve — that is opod. From the cpr- 
ner of the Bridcre of the Holy iFathers the amazed 
crowd perceives that the river,! immensely swoMep, 
almost reaches the entablature |f the tunnel w|iith 
connects the Orsay Station with Ihe 0j:lean^ Stalicjn. 
Friends arrive — worse news anl ever worse, flpe 
suburbs of the city are entirely wlooded, trains! ^re 
held up, bridges are falling. Wlter seems to gush 
up everywhere — along the walls, Vhe partitions, in 
the crevices between the stones, undi" the pavements, 
along the tramway rails — the regis\rating barome- 
ter which marked 773 millimetres is still falling ! 

The yellow, turbid Seine seems riskig as if to 
assault the bridges, banks, laundry floats, and the 
great black barges moored beside the quaysj the 
sailors on which are now doubling the cables 

IMoNDAY, two o'clock, Camavalct Museum. -L One 
attache and two guards have failed to appear ; they 
live in an inundated suburb : communication is in- 
terrupted ; their little houses must be surrounded 



298 



BYWAYS OF PARIS 



by water. The rue de Sevigne resounds with ill- 
omened trumpet calls, announcing that a squad of 
firemen are starting from the nearest engine house 
to struggle with some new catastrophe. Next to 
fire, these doughty fellows are ready — heroes that 
they are ! — to brave the water — the treacherous 





The Seine and the Pont-Royal, January 25, 1910 

water, insidiously undermining walls, hollowing 
foundations, opening crevasses. 

" Halloa ! Halloa ! This is the ' Annals.' Have 
you in the Museum any documents concerning former 
inundations of Paris ? Yes ? That 's good. I '11 
come to look them over." 

" Halloa ! This is the ' Illustrated World.' Have 
you in the Museum " - — and so forth. A card is 



A WEEK OF INUNDATION 



299 



I 



brought in, two cards, three, certain reporters 
would like to consult whatever the Museum may 
possess concerning inundations. 

Let us take account of our stock — there is very 
little. A few illustrations dating from thirty years 
ago, the reproduction of a curious picture by Loir 




The Wharf of the "Touriste" Opposite the Orsay Station, 

January 26, 1910 

Luigi, a colored engraving by Debucourt, some un- 
important documents. But in running through 
Aulard's " Paris under the Consulate " I find two 
extracts from the Gazette cle France which appear 
entirely to the point: 

The 12 Nivose, year X (1802): "The Seine has risen to 
such an extent that communication is interrupted in several 
quarters of the city. Only eighteen inches are lacking for 



300 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

the river to attain the height of 1740. People are going 
about in boats in a great number of streets, — Saint-Florentin, 
Lille, Seine, Vielle-Boucherie, Git-le-Coeur, Pavee, etc. The 
Place de Greve is covered with from three to four feet of water, 
and boats loaded with wheat are moored this morning under 
the Arcade Saint- Jean." (The Arcade Saint- Jean at that 
time passed through the Hotel de Ville.) 

Later, 14 Nivose : 

This morning the scale on the National Bridge (Pont -Royal) 
marked 7 metres 7 decimetres. The Esplanade of the 
Invalides, the Champs-Elysees, and the whole plain of Ivry 
are under water. From the top of the towers of Notre Dame 
the whole inundation is visible. 

As to the cataclysm of 1T40, we have all the 
details in Barbier's Journal: 

To-day (December 25, Christmas Day) Paris is entirely 
flooded. On one side the Plain of Grenelle and the enclo- 
sure of the Invalides, the Champs-Elysees and the Avenue 
are covered with water. It reaches by way of the Porte 
Saint-Honore even to the Place Vendome. There is no going 
about except by boat: on the side of Bercy, la Rapee, the 
General Hospital (now the Salpetriere) , it is an open sea. 
The Place de Greve (now Place de I'Hotel de Ville) is covered 
with water, a stream flows over the parapet, all the neigh- 
boring streets are inundated; where there are porte-cocheres 
boats enter the houses as far as the stairs. Bread is four sols 
and a half a pound, and everything else is very dear. A boat- 
man has been imprisoned for having exacted twelve sols to 
row a poor woman and her child across. 

Six o'clock in the evening. At the house of a 
friend in the rue de Lille, around a bridge table. — 
Some guests have come in, bringing news ; the base- 
ment of the Orsay Station is flooded. Two electric 
locomotives were mid-height in water before any 



A WEEK OF INUNDATION 301 

one had time to move them. All day long the 
quays have been crowded with gazers, photogra- 
phers, news-criers. Beams, casks, rubbish of all 
kinds, — parts of houses, still covered with ivy, roll 
tumultuously down the greenish river. Some half- 
frozen magistrates come in from the Palais de 
Justice, where the furnaces have been flooded ; the 
members of the Chamber of Petitions were forced 
to meet around a coke fire in the Council Chamber 
— all doors open, in obedience to the prescriptions 
of the Law. The waters have reached 7 metres 89 
at the Pont Royal ; one centimetre more and they 
will overpass the high- water mark of IT-l^O. We try 
to be cheerful, but the game languishes. 

Tuesday the 25th, 11 a.m. — The Seine con- 
tinues to rise, and the people to crowd the quays. 
Automobiles, coupes stop at the head of the bridges, 
while the owners get down to get a nearer view. 
Chauffeurs and coachmen stand on their seats to 
look over the heads of the others. Infiltrations are 
beginning to w\ork through to the rue de Lille, rue 
de Verneuil, rue de Bellechasse. The tramways are 
overcrowded, the imperial affords so good a place 
for observing the furious assault of the unbridled 
river upon the old quays and bridges of Paris. 
" It 's as good as a cinema ! " says a student of the 
Fine Arts School, in his wide gray velveteen trou- 
sers, supporting a pretty girl who is nibbling at a 
bunch of violets. People crowd around the glass 
door of the Orsay Station, staring in. There is a 
rumor that the Pont d'lena is to be blown up, its 
heavy piers obstructing the passage of the waters. 



302 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

At the Jardin des Plantes the bears have been 
rescued from their submerged pits. 

Seven in the evening. — How hard it is to climb 
the five flights of stairs which the elevator used to 
overcome so rapidly ! At the corner of each land- 
ins; is a candle in a brass candlestick. And in the 
evening we gather around the long-discarded lamp, 
which smells of petroleum. 

Wednesday, 26th, half-past seven in the morning. 
— The sparrows come at my call in greater num- 
bers than ever. They and I are old friends. Every 
morning at half-past seven they mount guard on 
the balustrade of the balcony and vociferously de- 
mand their daily bread. Usually I find a score 
of clients awaiting me — among them a lame one, 
who never misses his daily visit, and a little gray 
bird of delightful effrontery. This morning the 
number is doubled — my little comrades must have 
sent out invitations. Of course we shall augment 
the portions. 

Eight o'clock. — I open my Figaro. A single 
phrase admirably sums up the experiences of yes- 
terday : " It seems as if we were besieged by an 
intangible enemy." The Seine is still higher — the 
metre shows 8^- 29. The situation is becoming very 
grave at the Pont-Royal. The river is crowded with 
driftwood — forests of white timbers, casks, pitiful 
bodies of dead dogs, floating rapidly, the four paws 
stiffly upright. The dirty yellow water forms great 
ripples around the floats and the boats moored to the 
shore. A tempest of snow, hail, rain, comes up 
suddenly. There are 1°^- 40 of water in our cellars, 



A WEEK OF INUNDATION 



308 



on the Quay Voltaire — pumping engines have been 
installed next door, at the offices of the " Illustrated 
World," and lower down, at the " Official Journal," 
to clear out the low vaults where the machines are 
at work. 

In the afternoon, 3.30. Municipal Council Cham- 




QuAY Saint-Michel, January 26, 1910 

her. — M. de Selves, Prefect of the Seine, makes 
known to the Councillors the precise situation of 
Paris, and shows the hourly increasing peril. He 
enumerates the measures already taken, not only 
against imminent dangers, but also to insure the 
existence of thousands of homeless people who are 
pouring in from all directions, for the care of the 
sick, for the oversight of his army of engineers and 
other experts. The dark rings around the Prefect's 
eyes, his rigid features, speak of the overwrought 



304 



BYWAYS OF PARIS 



condition of this man of superior intelligence. After 
him comes the Prefect of police ; he comes from the 
inundated suburbs. In many cases they are falling 
in, and his brief address ended, he hastens away — 
as is ever his custom — to the point of greatest 




Quay Voltaire and the Pumping Engine of the 
"Official Journal" 



danger, setting the example of bravery, sustaining 
by his presence the heroic phalanx of policemen, 
soldiers and sailors, requisitioned for the service ! 

Massed upon the steps leading to the tribune, 
crowded behind stenographers, clerks, and their col- 
leagues of the municipal building, the Councillors 
pay an ovation to the two Prefects. Standing be- 
fore them, very elegant in his black coat with the 



A WEEK OF INUNDATION 



305 



rosette of the Legion of Honor in the buttonhole, 
M. E. Caron, President of the Council, eloquently 
emphasizes the importance of this patriotic mani- 
festation. The credits they ask for are unanimously 
voted, a great wave of fraternal enthusiasm, of pas- 
sionate love for our dear Paris, brings together men 




Quay Saint-Michel, Januaet 26, 1910 

usually of widely differing views. It is very simple, 
very beautiful, very impressive. 

Half -past four. — M. Quentin-Bauchart, Council- 
lor from the flooded Champs-Elysees district, who 
presides over the Committee of Old Paris, hastily 
expedites the most urgent matters to return to the 
post of danger in his own quarter. 

The quays are always crowded — by people even 
more curious than moved. Vendors are crying, 
"Paris under water! The deluge in Paris. — In- 



306 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

stantaneous pictures, one franc a dozen." The Pont 
des Arts is closed, passage is forbidden. Ropes are 
stretched across, watched by a sentinel wrapped in 
his cloak. Another barrage on the quay du Louvre 
— the ground has been pressed up, water pours out 
of the sewers. — The old Pont-Neuf is once again 
open to traffic. 

The water is still rising. Since the beginning 
the level of the Seine has risen 6 metres 10. 

Ten o'clock. — This evening Quay Voltaire is a 
lamentable sight. People are tramping through the 
sticky mire in the middle of the street, shrieking 
engines are emptying the cellars of the " Official 
Journal " and belching clouds of smoke upon the 
passers-by. Fear begins to prevail, — gossips are 
prognosticating all sorts of horrors. Women are 
weeping: one who sells newspapers asks (these are 
her very words), " Sir, you know the Prefect of 
police — can you tell how soon this will end ? " 

The rue de Lille is completely flooded, people are 
going about in boats. M. Lemercier, judge in the 
Tribunal of the Seine, has moored a canvas canoe 
at the foot of his staircase ! 

A frightful odor of gas pervades the whole region ; 
the caving in has burst the mains, — no one knows 
where to find the leaks. Agents are going about, 
shutting off all the metres; there has just been an 
explosion in the tobacco shop at the corner of the 
rue de Beaune, under the historic apartment where 
Voltaire died. My concierge is beside herself — 
" Three steps more, sir, and the water is in the 
court." Behind the porte-cochere, under the arch, 



A WEEK OF INUNDATION 



307 



there are bags of cement and a pile of bricks ; the 
cellar is full of water, and it is proposed to put up 
a dike at the top of the cellar stairs and before the 
entrance door of the house. 

The tunnel of the Orsay railway runs under our 




The Footbridge of the rue de Bgaune, January 27, 1910 



house ; we can distinctly hear the water running in 
spurts. 

Thursday, the 27th, 9 a. m. — It freezes, but the 
day is fine. The Seine is still higher ; the laundry 
floats, lifted above the level of the parapets of the 
quays, shut out the view of the Louvre ! 

Four in the afternoon. — At the corner of the rue 
du Bac, which has been closed since noon, a great 
mob of people has gathered, laughing, joking. Four 



308 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

sewer men, booted to the middle, are carrying in their 
arms, from one sidewalk to the other, the unlucky 
dwellers in the flooded streets — rue de Verneuil, rue 
de Lille, rue de Poitiers, rue de Beaune. The water 
is up to their thighs. The women weep, the children 
laugh. This picturesque going and coming recalls 
the interesting picture of Petit after Garnier, where 
in a Parisian street a stout fellow, bare-legged, car- 
ries on his back a pretty muscadine of the year IX 
with impeccable legs, her dainty feet encased in 
high-heeled shoes. 

Ten o'' clock in the evening. — The view from my 
balcony is splendid and appalling. The quays are 
almost deserted — in the dark distance voices are 
crying the " latest news." The electric light still 
shines on the right bank, red fires showing the 
piles of bridges give a sanguinary note to the 
scene. 

On the quay of the Louvre the great flames of 
two acetylene fires flash upon the black and troubled 
waters with precisely the eflfect of the " showers of 
gold " of fireworks. 

The moon is very bright. Here and there along 
the quays are little flames — bivouac fires of the sol- 
diers who will pass the night there, guarding us, 
protecting us from the malefactors whose sinister 
countenances begin to show themselves in the darker 
alleys. 

The friend who stands beside me contemplates the 
gloomy view : suddenly he exclaims, " Well, good 
enough ! here I am shut out. The water which had 
hardly touched the street below the rue Bonaparte 



A WEEK OF INUNDATION 309 

has covered it all. How am I to get back home? " 
And he leaves me, in some perturbation. 

Friday, the 28th, four o'clock in the morning. 
— The night is mild, the sky very calm, yet without 
a star. There is no sound except the dull, incessant 
moaning of the river. The water appears to have 




The Seine and the Pont des Saints-Peres, January 28, 1910 

reached the level of the Pont des Saints-Peres, the 
apron of which seems to lie directly upon the Seine. 
Shadows of cyclists pass rapidly in the night ; the 
great red fires of the quay du Louvre continue to 
burn. 

Seven o'clock. — The gray day is dawning. On 
the servants' staircase are sounds of domestics 
hastening to get provisions ; it recalls the bad days 



310 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

of the siege. The butcher himself comes up for 
orders ; he is flooded and will close his shop. The 
Seine sieems ever more threatening, great gray clouds 
are dragging like sails over the roofs of the Louvre, 
the towers of Saint-Germain-l'Auxerrois, the pepper- 
box turrets of the Conciergerie. The rosy little ray 
of the early morning does not come, as usual, to 
touch the spire of the Sainte-Chapelle. Carriages 
begin to roll, their red lanterns still alight ; echoing 
blows of hammers are heard on the still shadowy 
quays — the shopkeepers are barricading themselves ! 

Half-past seven. — Shouts beneath my windows — 
with the aid of a basket fastened to a broom handle, 
a young man has just fished up a magnificent carp 
weighing three pounds. 

The cook returning from market brings news. 
Crowds are pressing into the grocery shops to buy 
provisions ; the shops are encumbered with goods 
brought up from the cellars, where the water would 
long ago have drow^ned them. Mineral waters and 
kerosene are entirely lacking ; butter is sold at 9. 
francs 30 a pound, a dozen eggs for 1 franc 80. 
Green stuff is rare ; the price of potatoes and cab- 
bages has doubled. 

Ten o'clock. — Locomotion becomes more and 
more difficult; the wooden pavements, displaced 
by the water, dance under the feet. Many women 
fall in the street. That " rivulet of the rue du 
Bac," so dear to Mme. de Stael, is charming this 
morning ! 

Street boys, liveried servants, loungers are curi- 
ously inspecting the little dikes of brick and cement 




Rue Visconti, January 28, 1910 



312 BYWAYS OF PARIS 

which the shopkeepers and porters have put up be- 
fore the openings of shops and porte-cocheres. 

At the angle of the rue de Bellechasse and the 
terrace of the Legion of Honor is a lake — a tor- 
rent. A pocket of water has fallen in, and the 
water spurts up like a cascade, covering the blue 
plate bearing the name of the street. This rue de 
Bellechasse forms a canal a metre and a half deep. 
A sort of hanging stage affords a landing place for 
several barks which ply along the flooded streets, 
rue de Lille, rue de Verneuil, rue de Poitiers. Some 
provision-laden folk embark, great loaves under the 
arm. M. Marechal, the energetic police commissary 
of the quarter, though exhausted by three nights of 
watching, is superintending the improvised ferry- 
men, members of his force. Many of them are 
first-rate fellows, whose devotion is admirable, but 
apaches have sneaked into the ranks ; did not two 
scoundrels yesterday undertake to hold a poor woman 
for ransom? M. Marechal has great difficulty in 
keeping off the crowd from the dangerous platform 
in front of the station, the undermined foundations 
of which may give way at any moment. The thin 
layer of macadam trembles beneath our feet ; it is 
easy to imagine the rushing water below. 

Eleven o'clock. — The court of the Ecole des 
Beaux Arts : a lake reflects Gaillon's exquisite arch. 
Young girls coming out from the studios venture 
themselves laughingly upon the narrow plank which 
will give them access to the rue Bonaparte. 

The rue Visconti, entirely flooded, might be a 
Venetian canal in the Giudecca, a water way in 



A WEEK OF INUNDATION 



313 



Rotterdam. The inhabitants are compelled to go 
in and out of their homes by ladders to the first- 
floor windows ! Barks are plying in the dark nar- 
row street where lived Jean Racine, Adrienne Lecou- 
vreur, and our immortal Balzac. Mounted on a pile 
of boards, we never tire of gazing along this nar- 




The Palace of the Legion of Honor, January 28, 1910 



row way, where the sky is mirrored in the water. 
It is incontestably one of the most unexpected sights 
of inundated Paris. 

We return home ; the rain has begun again, 
idlers become less frequent, the shops are closed, but 
the vendors continue to cry, " Ask for the Deluge 
in Paris ! 2-i instantaneous photographs for one 
franc ! " 



314 



BYWAYS OF PARIS 



At four o'clock the Pont des Saints-Peres is 
barred. 

Saturday Moknixg, January 29, eight o^clock. 
— An unclouded sun seems to bring hope with him. 
The Seine is falling; no one can doubt it who sees 
the narrow white line which the falling water leaves 






The Court of the School of Fine Arts, January 28, 1910 



upon the black piles of the bridges. On the other 
hand, there are no papers this morning, nor gas, 
nor electricity, nor telephone, nor elevator, and two 
bridges only afford communication with the other 
side of the river — the Pont-Neuf and the Pont- 
Royal ; that is to say, the two oldest bridges in 
Paris. Is progress only a vain word? 

Life begins again. Small messenger bo3'^s appear 

R 28.8" 



A WEEK OF INUNDATION 315 

to find prodigious amusement in watching the in- 
defatigable fishermen, deeply engaged in " wetting 
the line in the water " ; painters have set up their 
easels and " pigent les motifs " of the inundation ; 
janitors state joyfully that " it has n't risen in the 
cellar," — the Seine seems less ill-natured, less vio- 
lent. It is the end, let us hope. Upon the Morris 
Column facing the Orsay Station a perfectly fresh 
poster is displayed : " To-morrow, Sunday, January 
30, Le Deluge, by Saint-Saens." 



R Baaa 








C" * 






.-^^ . 




0" 



v> 


























' -y^ 



.V 







^^■'t. 




<5> 






o V 




*1 P^ 




^°-^^. 




^> 



^ °o _ „ ^ 








DOBBS BROS 









029 940 887 5 



